


Sweets 'verse

by Vectorsigma3441



Series: Sweets Universe [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 12:53:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 58,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vectorsigma3441/pseuds/Vectorsigma3441
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the Autobots; a faction full of horny mechs that can't wait to get their hands on a virginal Mirage. After losing his creators, the noble is on a quest to fill that lonely void in his spark. Mirage/Prowl. Multiple pairings. Sticky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sweet as candy

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Sweet as Candy  
> Authors: vectorsigma3441 as Ratchet, diamondunicorn (LJ) as Mirage  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Characters/Pairings: Ratchet/Mirage, implied Ratchet/Ironhide  
> Summary: It's Mirage's first day with the Autobots when he reunites with a familiar face. His old doctor, Ratchet, who takes the time to appreciate how much Mirage has grown.  
> Series: G1  
> Warnings: Slash, explicit sex
> 
> ~10/02/2012~  
> Sweets 'verse has finally been uploaded to AO3. I'm thinking of giving the series a reboot and adding some Decepticon chapters. In either case, it's come to my attention just how many people still read Sweets, which I find shocking since it's been so many years!

With quiet, careful steps, Mirage walked down the Autobot base halls. It was his first day with the Autobots and for now they were letting him get 'settled in'. He wasn't entirely sure how comfortable he wanted to make himself at the moment. He didn't like fighting, he'd joined mostly because he had nowhere else to go, and he loathed the Decepticons for what they'd done. Never had he thought he'd long so much for a familiar or friendly face.

He paused as he came to an open doorway in the long halls. None of the other rooms were open, why was this one? He peered inside, seeing a long row of clean berths. The area smelled sterile, the back of the room lined with a long counter, and in the corner of the room, a single desk. Even in his limited experience, he could recognize it as a medical bay. It would explain why the door was open, to welcome in anyone who was hurt.

There was a mech at the counters, his back to Mirage and wiping them down. Despite the turned back, he was almost positive he recognized the mech. He'd seen that back many times growing up. "Doctor Ratchet?" Mirage said, taking a cautious step inside.

Ratchet kept his medbay clean, perfect, and wouldn't have it any other way. Messes made it un-sterile and unwelcoming, so he did his best to keep it as clean as possible, probably even to the point of paranoia. Though, of course, Ratchet had his reasons for everything, and they were all just.

With blue optics dimmed, he continued to scrub at the counter, though at that voice he turned and looked, slightly startled. There were always certain times when he would be thinking too hard and forget to pay attention. The red and white colored medic straightened up and arched his back, allowing the twisted wires and joints to unravel and pop. Then he looked again, seeing the young mech that wandered into the medbay who looked rather apprehensive. "Mirage," he said with a slight tone of disbelief, and then he smiled, turning fully so he could look upon the other mech's form. "You've grown quite a bit," he noted casually. Of course the mech had... he looked as good as Ratchet remember, lithe and small with beautiful curves and angular hips... "How can I assist you?" he obligatorily said, and his optics hastily roved back upwards when he realized they had been wandering.

Mirage didn't notice the appreciative look, approaching the medic and relaxing in the presence of his old doctor. He even smiled a little. He'd always liked Ratchet, he had been a nice doctor, skilled at easing the worries of his youngling patient's with a friendly smile and energon sweets. "I just joined the Autobots. I've been exploring and trying to get used to this place. It's nice to see someone familiar."

"Ahh, yes, not many of the type you're used to, I'm afraid... Though the second in command, Prowl, is from the Praxus line of nobility... Otherwise I'm afraid you're all there is," Ratchet murmured in reply. "I was hired on as Prime's personal surgeon, but then a whole mess started and was opted for CMO instead..." He smiled endearingly at the younger mech and turned to a nearby sink to wash his servos. "But don't worry, there's a lot of nice 'bots around here."

Mirage nodded. "That is reassuring to know. This situation is hard enough without being around unpleasant characters. I did meet Prowl briefly, he showed me my quarters and told me what was expected of me. He did mention I would eventually have to schedule a maintenance check."

"Oh, yes, all the new soldiers that come in have to get one. Got to make sure there aren't any viruses or problems after all. Can't have a mech going into battle whose damaged..." the medic murmured, and he turned the faucet off and dried his hands on a clean rag. "Why don't I take a look at you right now? There's no one here at the moment, and there are private rooms towards the back." The larger mech motioned with one hand towards the end of the room were a few doors were.

"Alright," Mirage said, following Ratchet into one of the private medical rooms. He took the single berth in it, sitting primly with his arms at his sides and his legs pressed together, one tucked behind the other. "It is good to see you again Ratchet, it has been some time since I last saw you."

"Indeed," Ratchet replied, and he locked the door, making it so no one could sneak inside or bother them. "There's a pair of twins around here that like causing trouble," he said, explaining his need to do it. Then turned and opened a drawer, taking a small tray of tools out, none that were too sharp looking, and he set it upon a rolling stand so he could wheel it to Mirage. The medic pulled out a scanner from his subspace and turned it on, smiling easily to the younger mech. "Why don't you just scoot over and lay on your back? It'll be easier for me to get to parts of your frame," the medic spoke, letting his optics travel the length of the younger mech's frame, though if it was unprofessional, it was hard to tell.

Mirage nodded, obediently laying back. He settled his hands over his chassis, fingers lightly drumming on the white plating. His legs fell open a little as he relaxed against the berth. "How has army life been for you? I imagine treating warriors must be much different from treating younglings."

"Army life is good, I have a cushy commanding position," the mech murmured, "though of course, it has its challenges. The mechs are louder and ruder, but essentially, it's much the same, if perhaps worse... Have mechs whining about the tiniest of cuts," he murmured, then clicked his glossa to accent his words. Of course he didn't miss as Mirage relaxed his position, and Ratchet's blue optics were directed to the shiny and smooth panel between the young mech's legs... Then he shook himself, chuckling softly at his own antics. He wasn't interfacing deprived at all, had more than a few mechs willing to please him, but for some reason Mirage had piqued his interest. A red colored hand moved over the mech's stomach plating, lightly treading, and he poked around at a few spots, making sure that the plating wasn't loose. Leaning closer, he pulled out a small tool, one for separating wires, and he spied one of the sensors nodes on the mech's wiring. Then he prodded lightly at it, allowing the cold metal to linger over it.

Mirage had to suppress the urge to squirm at all the light touches. He'd always been a bit sensitive, perhaps from his easy lifestyle and light plating. He tensed at the cold touch to one of the sensor nodes hidden in his plating. It sent a small jolt of pleasure to his CPU. It felt good, too good for a medical exam. "But they're warriors, shouldn't they be tougher than that?" Mirage asked, trying to ignore the feeling of the node being prodded.

"You would think so," Ratchet murmured back, bent over as he continued to mercilessly stimulate that node, but quit after a few moments before the mech started to grow more uncomfortable. Really, he didn't know what he was trying to achieve, but the thought of Mirage wet and writhing sent a thrill up his backstrut. It hadn't been the first time he'd manipulated a patient for his own ends. Drawing that tool out, he carefully kept his expression aloof, then worked his hands up that chassis displayed for him, making sure that there wasn't any lose plating or similar things, and very coyly slipping that tool in to brush across sensor nodes when he saw them. How long would it take him to realize that Ratchet was playing with him? When Ratchet was up at Mirage's neck he allowed his fingers to rub across that neck tubing, lightly caressing to make sure there weren't any weak spots. "Alright, open your panel, I've got to check your valve and spike, make sure you're healthy."

Mirage struggled to keep his frame's temperature normal, a hard task with Ratchet's hands roving along his body. He didn't remember this being a part of his exams growing up. "Ah-alright," he said softly, keeping his tone even as he tried to hide how Ratchet's touching was affecting him. He spread his legs farther apart, panel clicking open to bear his interface equipment.

He toyed with the thought that Ratchet's touches weren't innocent. But the medic had always been professional with him before. Then again molesting an underage patient, especially a rich one, was practically suicide for anyone. He pushed the musings aside. If the touches were an accident, he could deal with the results later when he was alone. If they weren't... well he wasn't sure what he would do. Although they did feel very good.

Ratchet smiled as the mech was so easy to follow his orders. Just to add a professional touch he allowed his fingers to linger on the mech's neck tubing, lightly tracing them. Though, even if his touches were less than professional, he was doing his job to make sure that everything on the younger mech was working properly. Then he turned to the side and went to a sink, washing his hands again, and came back, his blue optics finally resting on the mech's opened interfacing unit. Both still had seals. A surprised look took him and he stopped as he wiped his hands dry, optics greedily drinking in the sight of the virgin splayed before him. "Oh Mirage, I'm sorry, I suppose I should've asked if you'd interfaced before or not," he finally said, tearing his optics away from the beauty before him to gaze nonchalantly at the wall.

"It's fine. Will this change how you will need to perform the procedure?" It was a little embarrassing displaying his untouched status, but also easier than if he was being checked over by a stranger. At the same time it was almost exciting, he'd never opened his panel for anyone before, never dared try to pleasure himself. He'd always been skittish about losing his seals, wanting it to be with someone he trusted, but never finding the right bot for the job.

Ratchet hesitated, his arms crossing over his chassis. In all actuality, there was no need for him to continue the exam anymore, at least not on Mirage's interfacing components. For several minutes he considered lying, saying some falsehood so he could get at the mech's valve, but he didn't really want to, especially not if he would be dealing with the young mech on a regular basis. "Well, really, I have no need to continue, though I probably should check to make sure everything is working properly for when you do decide to interface... But then again, that's not my business... Sometimes mechs are slow to develop the urge to interface," he spoke quietly, fixing the mech before him with a soft and concerned look. "I guess, really, it's up to you."

Mirage smiled after a moment. "I wouldn't mind continuing, Ratchet." He couldn't help suspecting the mech had been feeling him up, but... it was still Ratchet. He'd known him since he could remember, and every memory of him was one of careful handling and easing away worries and pain. Ratchet had always taken good care of him. Mirage spread his legs a little further apart as invitation. "It doesn't hurt to be thorough, after all."

"Alright then, I'm going to have to remove your seals... is that okay with you?" Ratchet asked. Really, having them removed by a medic was probably the best thing that could happen. It was assured that it was done safely and correctly, and painlessly too.

"Yes, that will be fine," Mirage said with a nod. He softly cycled some air, settling a bit of tension he felt at the idea of losing his seals. It was nothing to how he'd felt the one time he'd come close to having his seals broken. He'd gotten so anxious about the entire thing, he'd left in the middle of foreplay with the mech he'd almost given himself to. Smokestack had never spoken to him after that, upset about Mirage's behavior. Mirage had never bothered with him or with the thought of interface after that. He wasn't giving himself to someone who didn't care about how his first time would be for him.

"Alright, just relax," Ratchet spoke, and he drew closer, pressing a soft hand to rest on Mirage's stomach, lightly kneading at the metal. A free hand drew down and he rubbed his index finger around the outside of that valve, stimulating the noblemech with his fingers. Then he pinched lightly at the edge of the seal and pressed his digit into the tiny gap, peeling it up. Oh, he would probably be in big trouble if caught doing this to his patients... It wasn't professional in the least. Still, he rubbed his fingers, and as that seal started to come up, he could smell the fresh and clean scent of lubricant. Then he quickly peeled the rest of it off, baring Mirage's valve for the first time. Of course Ratchet wasn't unaffected, his optics were darker with arousal, and he could also feel his spike prodding very insistently at the back of his panel, desiring to extend... "There," he finished in a breathy whisper, "one down."

Mirage let out a sigh, relaxing. Aside from the initial sting as Ratchet started to peel the seal away, it hadn't hurt. His valve, now free to the open air, clenched reflexively at the cool temperature. "That was easier than I'd expected," Mirage said.

There was... a large amount of lubricant in Mirage's valve, enough to signify his arousal. So, as much as the noblemech had hidden it, he had been affected by those little administrations earlier. Swallowing down the lump that was forming in his throat, Ratchet allowed his finger to wipe up a small shiny dribble of lubricant, and he gritted his denta at the warm and wet feeling. But, no, it was a foolish thing to even think about. "Alright, since your spike is still sealed, I won't have to take that off, it'll be fine... just your valve to worry about," he murmured quietly. Then he turned and went to a drawer, picking out a few items that he had in there, and sent them back upon that rolling table. "Again, just relax your valve, pretend you're taking a nice warm bath..." the medic spoke, and he picked up a speculum, then held it in his hands, warming it with his palms. Ratchet squeezed it closed, then nudged the tip towards the opening of that wet valve, and very slowly slid it inside, penetrating Mirage with it. "You're still okay?" he murmured as he moved it.

"Mmhm." Mirage nodded, staring at the ceiling, fingers tightly laced. His valve flexed around the speculum. It wasn't painful, but it was new. His valve tingled a little with the small stretch of the penetration. He vented, shuttering his optics. He shifted on the berth, getting more comfortable, and pretending he was in a bath. His body was submerged in warm solvent mixed water, seeping into his joints and tickling the sensors of his body...

Okay, that wasn't helping, if anything it was exciting him more.

"Okay," Ratchet murmured at the mech's vocalization, then made a soft triumphant noise when the speculum was all the way inside. "I'm going to open the speculum a little bit, it'll probably feel pretty pleasurable, but try not to shift too much." Then he squeezed his hand around the ends, spreading Mirage open just enough, and locked it so it didn't move. With the noblemech spread like that he wouldn't be able to flex his valve too much. Then Ratchet pulled up a long metal device, one that was very narrow with a curved tip. "I'm going to insert this and feel around in your tank, make sure everything is safe and sound." Quickly he pressed that little rod inside, pressing up through the rubber opening that allowed lubricant to drain from his tank to his valve. Ratchet's fingers were touching to the top part of Mirage's valve wall, a part where the speculum wasn't touching, mainly because he had no choice, and also because he wanted to.

Mirage suppressed a whimper, legs spreading further apart for Ratchet's ministrations. The sensors running right behind the walls of his valve were being tormented so pleasurably with the stretch from the speculum. The probe shifted around inside him, teasing him as Ratchet's fingertips rested right under one of the circuit clusters of his valve. His thighs trembled at the sensations, he didn't know if he wanted to close them, or spread them wider.

Soon he was finished, but Ratchet kept the probe in there for a little longer than was needed. The small twitches and trembles didn't go unnoticed under his expert hand, and Ratchet suddenly realized that he had taken quite a few virgins in just this way... "Alright, I'm going to pull it out now," he spoke, then eased the rod out of Mirage's valve, discreetly wiping it on a rag as more of it appeared. Soon it was all the way out and he passed a smile to the prone mech on the berth. "You're good and sound, a true towers make." Ratchet eased the speculum back closed, then pulled that out very slowly as well, taking care to make sure he didn't hurt the beautiful young mech on the berth in front of him. That too was wiped off, and he placed it on the tray, where they would be disposed of later. "How do you feel?" Ratchet asked uncertainly.

"...Hot," Mirage said breathlessly. His hands were trembling just a little, frame heating up, pleasure sensors tingling. "Should I be this affected? It didn't seem like you did a lot to me." His face heated, cheeks flushed with arousal and embarrassment, optics darkened with emotion.

Ratchet's optics flared at those words and he gripped tightly to the edge of the berth, facial expression tightly controlled. "You're aroused, Mirage. Your frame is craving overload."

"Oh," Mirage murmured. He looked down, hesitating for a moment for what he was going to ask. "I've... never overloaded myself before, could you help me, Ratchet?" He looked up, biting his lower lip nervously.

Those words sent liquid lust to his circuits, his blue optics darkening in arousal as well. "Sure, I don't mind," Ratchet murmured, and he drew closer, letting his hand fan over the mech's stomach. With one digit he traced the entrance to Mirage's valve, this time with much more devious intent. Then he pressed a finger inside, feeling the hot lubricant coat his fingers, seeping into his joints, and he released a soft groan as his spike prodded to his panel cover again. Another finger was pressed in, and Ratchet tried to smile reassuringly, but was quite sure it failed with the way he looked. Then he started thrusting with his fingers, driving them in and out of Mirage, taking extra care to make sure they touched those valve walls, stimulating them, mocking the motions of a spike.

Mirage moaned, arching up. He spread his legs further, almost obscenely wide. "R-Ratchet..." he whimpered, grinding down on Ratchet's hand. It felt so good, the fingers passing over pleasure nodes and circuits inside him, each pass spiking up the temperature in his frame.

"It's alright Mirage, just feel the pleasure, let it consume you... it's a good thing," Ratchet spoke gently and he gradually increased the speed of his fingers, then quite expertly pressed another digit in, thrusting with all three of them. "First climaxes may be nerve wracking, but you'll know when, ahhh, your overload is approaching, it's nothing scary, and is quite calming... some mechs use self-service if they're having trouble recharging, or just need something to relax them..." the medic whispered, facial plates taut as the noises of suction from vigorously fingering Mirage assaulted his audios.

"I-I think-" Mirage let out a static laced whine. His hands fell to the sides of the berth, gripping them tightly, riding Ratchet's fingers harder. He was panting, little cries escaping his vocalizer. "R-Ratchet I-" he cried out louder as he overloaded, vision going white, valve tightening over Ratchet's fingers. His back arched off the berth, for a moment before falling back, shivering with the intensity of his climax.

The medic shivered as he listened to the mech as he overloaded, feeling lubricant flood Mirage's valve, some of it dripping onto the berth below. Ratchet kept his fingers inside of that valve for a few moments as it sporadically clenched around him, and very slowly he eased them out, knowing it was very sensitive. "There, you should feel better now," he said in a husky whisper, static nearly lacing his words as he spoke.

Mirage slowly lifted himself up, leaning back on his elbows. He did feel better, and a little drained. His optics fell on Ratchet, and it was apparent that the medic himself was charged up. "But you're not." He tilted his helm to the side, smiling shyly. "May I help you feel better, Ratchet?" He wasn't sure he wanted this to end just yet. That overload had been so nice, and now that he thought about it, and studied Ratchet, he was noticing just how handsome the medic was. Sturdy frame, long fingers, clean white paint job with that splash of red.

"Ahh, Mirage, I don't know if you want me for your first partner... wouldn't you rather it be someone you really like?" Ratchet half heartedly offered, his expression rather sheepish. Somehow it didn't feel right to be taking advantage of the mech in such a way, no matter if he had been stimulated to overload just a few moments before. Then he added, "So don't feel that you are... obliged to do anything, for whatever reason..."

"But I do like you. You've always been good to me, and I can trust you to treat me well. I'd like my first time to be with someone I know won't hurt me, and will make sure I enjoy it." He took Ratchet's hand in his, tugging it a little insistently as he smiled up at him. He could feel the slickness of his own lubricants coating it and ignored that for the moment.

"Mirage," Ratchet started in a rather strained sounding voice, and his optics flashed as he made to refuse, but that hand twined in his seemed to be very insistent. "Alright," he conceded, then gently patted the edge of the berth, motioning for the noblemech. "Put your aft here," he murmured quietly, though his optics were still rather dim. Oh yes, he would know best, as a doctor, how to make sure that Mirage enjoyed it and was comfortable... Somehow he felt rather guilty for doing it, but Mirage was right, from a certain aspect.

Mirage slid to the edge of the berth. He sat up, back straight and legs tilted open, unintentionally showing off his lubricant stained thighs.

Ratchet did not speak as Mirage moved, and he pressed close as the other neared, unintentionally rubbing his closed plate against Mirage's bare and wet interface. "You're a lovely mech," the medic spoke, and he drew his clean hand up, rubbing a thumb across Mirage's chin. The red and white mech pressed his face closer and kissed his patient, a hand reaching down to touch the outside of the mech's valve. With a click he allowed his own panel to slide open, revealing his wet valve and his spike, which extended right away. Both of his hands moved to grip to the mech's hips and he pulled the younger mech out more, allowing his arousal to prod at that ready valve. "You're sure...?" he murmured one last time.

"Yes," Mirage said, a shiver of nervous anticipation running down his backstrut. His hands clenched at the berth's edge. He nuzzled Ratchet's face, then gave the medic a chaste kiss. Despite being brought off by the medic just moments before, he still felt sort of shy about the situation. "I'd like you to be my first."

"Don't worry, it won't hurt at all, and will only feel even better than before," the medic spoke quietly, and he drew his arms up and around to rest gently on Mirage's shoulders. He nuzzled against the mech as well, his lips brushing gently over the those petulant and beautifully shaped smaller ones. Ratchet eased himself forward and pressed the tip of his spike into that waiting valve, slowly easing himself up and inside. The berth was just at the right height and angle... The medic stopped at about half the way, then paused to allow the valve to stretch and accommodate him.

Mirage hissed in pleasure as his valve stretched for Ratchet's spike. His hands rose up to Ratchet's shoulders, bracing himself against the medic. He squirmed against Ratchet, hesitant to move further onto the spike. He reflexively clenched around it, gasping softly as the sensors in his valve were stimulated by the thick spike. He felt like he needed to tell Ratchet how good it felt, how much he appreciated him bringing him this kind of pleasure, but his hazy processors couldn't form one elegant word. Instead he opted to lean against the medic, kissing and nuzzling his neck, engine purring appreciatively.

"Mm," Ratchet murmured, though his blue optics were dimmed, and he pressed his hips up the rest of the way, fully seating himself inside of that valve. There was nothing else like penetrating a virgin valve, it was absolutely tight and exquisite, though the emotions and noises from an inexperienced partner seemed to make everything so much better. "There," Ratchet murmured, and his denta trailed a sharp line along the mech's jaw, nipping and sometimes biting, and he then went to flick his glossa over neck tubing, slipping his glossa underneath to taste at the oils. Then he rolled his hips back, sliding his spike out all of the way, then pressed back inside, starting an easy and rolling motion, his hips moving in wide and lazy circles.

Mirage's hips twitched with the slow movements. He whimpered each time Ratchet's slow thrusts seated him fully inside the young mech. "Ah, Ratchet," Mirage rasped, optics getting darker with the slow build of heat and arousal. His head tilted to the side, giving Ratchet's glossa more room to work and tease his neck tubing. He lifted his legs, wrapping them around Ratchet's waist, giving him leverage as he grinded on the berth with his lover's movements.

Ratchet hissed out a breath, his hands traveling down the length of Mirage's legs to grip tightly to them, and he thrust his spike all the way inside that valve and wedged his hands underneath that aft, lifting the smaller mech right off the berth. It was a few short paces to the wall, and he desperately hoped that Ironhide would be able to hear them from where he was recharging in Ratchet's room from right behind the wall. The medic pinned the smaller mech to the wall, his hands holding onto those legs to give Mirage balance and he increased his pace, hearing the noblemech's aft and lower back thump into the wall with every thrust.

Hoarse, desperate cries were wrung from Mirage's vocalizer with each powerful thrust. The position left him with little to do besides hold on for the ride. His arms wrapped around Ratchet's neck hugging him as the spike moved faster inside him, the medic's body pinning him to the wall. He could feel his paint scraping against it, but couldn't find the effort to care as he burned from the inside with pleasure. He buried his face in Ratchet neck, keening happily at this new, wonderful feeling of interfacing.

Oh no, he wanted Mirage to remember this, to remember him, in the least. Because where mechs remembered something appealing and joyful, they usually came back for more... Ratchet continued to thrust, though he wasn't using his full strength because he feared he would hurt the mech he was interfacing with. New and unused valves were sensitive, though they tended to be far more flexible. His lips found the noblemech's and he kissed him, a pleasured hum working up from deep within his vocalizer. Ratchet was by far one of the most experienced mechs on the topic of interfacing in the base, and he didn't even think Ironhide had more experience.

Mirage returned the kiss feverishly, trembling in Ratchet's arms. The spike kept driving into him, warnings flashing as his body temperature rose to dangerous heights with his arousal and pleasure. Finally it became too much as his entire body went stiff, energy coursing through his frame as the sensations overwhelmed him. He moaned into Ratchet's mouth, limbs tightening around the medic, valve clenching with his overload.

Ratchet's HUD went red as well, calm little warnings flashing up that overload was impending, and with a final and deep drive inside of Mirage he allowed his overload to consume him, his spike twitching as he flooded the noblemech's valve with transfluid, his hips giving short spasms as he stiffened as well, his lips still locked to Mirage's. After an appropriate amount of time he drew his lips away the slightest bit and sighed, his frame much more contented now that he had overloaded. Nuzzling his face to the other mech's, he kissed at Mirage's lips, his denta reaching out to grab at the mech's bottom lip, pulling it out, and he then released it, a slight smirk on his face.

Mirage leaned against the medic, resting his chin on Ratchet's shoulder. The shift of his frame sent a small sting of over-stimulation through his valve before he settled, leaning on Ratchet's broader chassis. He laughed at a sudden thought. "I used to love having appointments with you because you always kept energon sweets in your office and offered them to well behaved patients. Now I think I have a whole new reason to look forward to visiting you."

"Hrm," Ratchet murmured at those words, and he slowly retracted his spike right out of the mech's valve, his hands still gripping to his aft. He turned and walked back over to the examination table, where he then set the mech entwined with him back down, his hands petting over his back as he turned away, and allowed his panel to shut... He'd clean himself up later. Striding over, he took out a small jar and dipped his hand inside, then went back to his patient. Pressing close, he brought his hand up and pushed a candy against Mirage's lips. "I still offer energon sweets to good patients," he purred.

Mirage let the candy past his lips, glossa swiping over Ratchet's fingertips as he took it, sucking softly on the sweet. He closed his own panel, inwardly grimacing at the feel of fluids seeping from behind the panel. "Do you also offer them something to clean up with? I don't know where this place's showers are, and I'm not sure I'd want to walk there covered in fluids anyway," he said a little sheepishly.

"Sure," Ratchet murmured, "my complex is in back, I have a shower rack in there, nice and private." Of course Mirage would want privacy to wash the transfluid out of his valve, that and the lubricant. "Follow me," he murmured. Then he strode to the door and unlocked it, casting a smile over his shoulder, and slipped around the corner, where he typed in a code to another door and stepped inside, revealing a personal complex. It was large, but homey, cluttered with datapads and tables filled with bits of spare parts and half disassembled guns and similar things laying around, while a lumbering form was obviously still recharging on one of the couches. "Lazy piece of scrap," Ratchet commented.

Mirage spared a short look to the large red mech on the couch, following quickly after Ratchet and into his private shower rack. At least the mech was in recharge. It would be embarrassing for anyone to see him like this. "Whose that, Ratchet?"

"Ahh," Ratchet murmured as he busied himself with finding the things Mirage would need. A bottle of solvent was found, an expensive one at that, though Ratchet didn't mind, he was able to afford quite a bit as his position of head medic. "He's a piece of scrap that dares to call himself my bondmate," the mech offhandedly replied, then gathered a towel in his arms and turned back to Mirage to press them into the mech's hands, a small smile on his face. "But don't worry, before you get any ill conceived ideas, we're not monogamous, we enjoy interfacing with other mechs, and will occasionally bring them back to the berth for even more sharing," he said with a calm voice, a slight smirk on his face.

"O-oh," Mirage said softly. He glanced back to the shower room's entrance. "I've never heard of bondmates interfacing outside of the bond." Bondmates seeing anyone besides each other would have been inconceivable in the Towers. It wasn't traditional, and the Towers had always had such a strict view on tradition. "He won't mind me washing up here, right? I'd hate to be a disturbance."

"It's a bit different around here, as you can imagine... the army means being in closer contact with other mechs, and sometimes attractions are developed... There's nothing wrong with creating an outside relationship besides the bond, and we treat all of our lovers with the utmost respect," Ratchet replied, offering a little bit of some explanation to assuage Mirage's circuits. "No, he won't mind, neither will I, take all the time you need, we won't bother you." Then he turned to the side and picked up a datapad, muttering quietly to himself about some lost datapad in the mess of their room.

Reassured, Mirage turned to the shower, turning it on. He adjusted it to his ideal temperature, stepping under the spray. For a few klicks, he just stayed under, doing nothing but enjoying the feeling of warm water running down his plating. Finally he reached for the solvent, slowly washing himself up, rubbing it between his legs and massaging the plating a little. He let the water wash away the solvent and the lubricant staining his thighs.

Once it was gone, he opened the panel between his legs. A bit of lubricant seeped from his valve, trailing down his thigh before being washed away by the water. He poured more solvent into one hand, rubbing it and building up a lather. He reached between his legs, cautiously prodding a finger into his valve. His intakes hitched a moment, the walls were still sensitive from the use they'd seen. Slowly and carefully, he cleaned himself out, trying not to stimulate himself too much. With a small sigh, he finished washing himself, turning off the water and replacing the cleaning products, then drying himself off.

He left the shower rack, seeing Ratchet at one of the empty couches of his room. "I'm done, thank you for letting me wash up, Ratchet."

Ratchet flicked his optics up from where he had been reading, Ironhide still sprawled on the couch opposite of him, his face buried into the back of the couch. The red mech made a noise and shifted, otherwise did nothing. "No problem Mirage, though it is kind of late, do you want to stay with me tonight?" the mech offered, setting that datapad neatly upon his lap. Of course he wouldn't mind snuggling up to the noblemech for the duration of the night, as Ironhide was out cold, and even if the weapons specialist wasn't, it was always fun to comfort and curl up with another. For several moments Ratchet considered plucking the datapad up and chucking it at Ironhide, but he resisted, only smiled to the noblemech.

Mirage took a moment to think about the offer. It was late, and after seeing Ratchet again, the idea of going back to his empty quarters wasn't at all appealing. He didn't normally like sleeping in strange places, but considering his room was just as new to him as the rest of the base, it wouldn't make any difference if he slept there or here. Being in friendly company, however, was a comforting thought.

"Yes, that would be quite nice actually. Where should I sleep?" He asked, looking around the room.

"Mm," Ratchet murmured, then pointed a finger, "There's my berth in the back through that door, you can get comfortable there, I'll join you in a little bit," he said. Then he stood up and stretched, giving a light yawn. He'd take a quick shower and clean up before he joined Mirage. "Would you like some energon?" he asked, "I can bring you some in just a minute." As he had said before, he treated all of his lovers with the utmost respect and catered to their needs.

"Yes, thank you," Mirage said, smiling and nodding. With a last glance to Ratchet he turned and headed for the medic's quarters. He settled on the expansive berth inside, noting that it was more than large enough to accommodate Ratchet and Ironhide. It could probably fit at least two more mechs if needed. Considering what Ratchet had told him earlier, that wasn't a surprise.

After a few moments Ratchet set the datapad aside and headed to the wash racks, where he too took a shower, washing all of his interfacing components and plating with a practiced ease. The mech was meticulously clean towards himself as well, though his complex was an entirely different story. Ironhide made it impossible to keep it clean for long. Soon he dried off and tossed the towel in the pile of others and stepped back out, his blue optics fixed upon his bondmate, who at that time was awake and sitting up. He brushed past and flicked his finger against Ironhide's helm. "I've got company," he informed the red mech, and he went to a cooler, where he grabbed two cubes of energon and mixed some additives to help with systems functions, and also to give Mirage a peaceable night's recharge. Ironhide grunted and stretched, then fell back over onto his side, already half back into recharge. Striding back to his room, Ratchet approached the pretty mech on his berth and passed him a cube of energon, then moved up to join the mech, sipping at his cube as he settled back. "You never told me what division you got placed in," he murmured, wondering just that.

Mirage took a sip from his own cube before answering, sidling a little closer to Ratchet. "The special operations commander picked me up. He seemed impressed by my sharp shooting and my electro disruptor."

"Ahh, Jazz, you mean," Ratchet murmured, and he laid on his side, sipping deftly at his cube. "He's a good mech, you'll get along great with him... and we also have a technician who makes and repairs hologram generators, and essentially electro disruptors," the medic added, then took a long draught so he could drink the rest of his cube, where he set it off behind him. A hand flicked out and he rubbed it along Mirage's side in a soothing motion.

Mirage took another klick to finish off his own cube, placing it beside Ratchet's. He settled down beside the other mech, curling up closer against him. "That's good to know. Thank you for inviting me to stay, Ratchet, and, well, for everything else you've done. I thought I was going to be a lot lonelier here." He'd thought he was going to be surrounded by nothing but army grunts and strangers. It seemed the Autobots were comprised of far more than just soldiers.


	2. Sweet Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation from 'Sweet as Candy'. Ratchet and Mirage are interrupted from their recharge by Ironhide, who decides he gets a turn to 'appreciate' Mirage as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Sweet Spark  
> Authors: vectorsigma3441 as Ironhide and Ratchet, diamondunicorn as Mirage  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Characters/Pairings: Ironhide/Mirage/Ratchet, established Ironhide/Ratchet  
> Summary: A continuation from 'Sweet as Candy'. Ratchet and Mirage are interrupted from their recharge by Ironhide, who decides he gets a turn to 'appreciate' Mirage as well.  
> Series: G1  
> Warnings: Slash, explicit sex, threesome

The night was peaceful, and Ratchet had curled up closer to his newest lover to offer the mech some comfort. To think, he'd been a virgin not too long ago, and was far too young to be taking part in a war. Mirage was inexperienced, both socially with the normal, and physically. It would be a tough road for the mech, and all the older mech wanted to do was comfort and hold him. Sometimes Ironhide chided him for being soft, and Ratchet couldn't agree more. He approached all of his work with unending passion and reverence, and after working and healing mechs for so long, he couldn't help but love all of them, occasionally physically as well.

Soon, Ratchet could feel a very insistent hand touching at his back plating, prodding at his backstrut with wily and well worn fingers.

With a gasp his blue optics lit up and he shuddered, shifting his hand that had been wrapped around Mirage's waist, and the medic turned onto his back, where his chassis was pressed down by Ironhide's hand, and he moaned when his bondmate leaned down and wrapped him up in a powerful kiss.

"Ah, Ironhide... I already told you I've got -mmph- company!"

At Ratchet's side, Mirage slowly stirred from his peaceful recharge. "Mm, Ratchet...?" he groaned, looking up at the reason for Ratchet's movement and the disturbance of his recharge. His systems flushed a little hotter in embarrassment at witnessing Ratchet and his mate, Ironhide, he recalled, locked in a passionate kiss. Well, Ironhide was mostly working the kiss, Ratchet seemed too surprised, and stiff with annoyance, to respond. He quickly averted his optics out of politeness, not sure what to do at the presented situation.

The medic tried to respond, but Ironhide was too insistent, and he only drew his hand up to touch Mirage's face to show he was listening. The dark red colored mech broke off for a moment, his gaze shifting to the mech laying next to his mate. "You've got yourself a nice one here," he drawled to his bondmate in his heavy accent. He shifted over and pressed a kiss to the top of the noblemech's chassis, a hand moving up to brush his digits across the mech's cheek. "Thought I heard you two thumping against the wall... and I was right."

Mirage offered Ironhide an apologetic smile. "Oh, sorry if we... disturbed you." He pressed closer to Ratchet's side, not sure how to take the new mech's advances. "I'm Mirage." Even with the open relationship and casual interfaces Ratchet had briefly described to him, it seemed improper to not at least ask his name before trying to come onto him.

"Mm, no disturbance," the red mech murmured, then shoved off Ratchet's hand from his shoulder and shifted over, a grin developing over his face. "My name's Ironhide," he rumbled in a deep voice, then leaned up to kiss Mirage on his lips.

Ratchet made a disgruntled noise and pushed on Ironhide, forcing the mech to roll off of Mirage and off to the side. "You're drunk," the medic casually noted, and he was quite sure that Mirage would have been able to taste the sweet energon on his bondmate's lips. The large red mech rolled over on his back and guffawed, his one hand resting on the noblemech's chestplates.

"Should I leave?" Mirage asked out of politeness. It had always been normal custom in the Towers that when a couple was quarreling guests either excused themselves, or the couple took it somewhere private. Although it was clearly evident that the Autobot's rule of conduct were different from his old home's.

"No," Ironhide spoke, and he drew a hand over to tease over Mirage chassis, then leaned up and kissed the mech on the lips again, his denta reaching out to grasp gently at the noble's upper lip component, then let it go, a smirk on his face.

Ratchet groaned, both at the nice image and the audacity of his bondmate. "If you don't like it Mirage, just tell him to get off, or I'll make him," he growled, blue optics dark as he grasped at a piece of plating on Ironhide's shoulder, holding him back.

Mirage looked between the two bondmates, silently contemplating his options. "I'm... not sure." He'd enjoyed interfacing Ratchet, and he knew he'd like to again. Although he'd just met Ironhide, and the mech was far from being on his best behavior, he didn't seem like the bad sort. Just drunk and acting somewhat inappropriately. His kiss and the hand stroking over Mirage's chassis were already driving away any idea of going back into recharge. "It feels quite nice, actually," he slowly admitted.

"Ooh, good choice, youngling," Ironhide commented, and he made another snicker as Ratchet cracked him over his helm with his knuckles. The medic rolled over onto his stomach and drew a hand to prop himself up onto his aft, then grasped for one of Mirage's legs, pulling it into his lap. As Ironhide kissed the mech, Ratchet started at Mirage's ankles, working his crafty digits over the metal in a massage. As a medic, he knew all of the perfect pressure points to cause the most pleasure.

Mirage moaned into Ironhide's mouth as Ratchet's skilled hands worked over the joints in the young noble's ankle and leaving a slow burn of pleasure to curl all the way up the sensors in his leg. He settled one hand on Ironhide's shoulder, the other on his hip, holding on for some stability as he was caught between the bondmate's attentions.

Ironhide took up Ratchet's idea and started with the mech's hips, gently kneading and caressing, showing care even in his rather lustful state. Those red hands of Ironhide's feathered slowly up Mirage's chassis, sometimes flitting in to touch at seams and sensor nodes, and of course any exposed wiring.

A wayward thought slipped through the bond link, but, perhaps not. 'He'd look good between us...' the red mech rumbled, laying easily on his side as he stroked his hand across the tubing on the noble's neck. 'His little aft up in the air, mouth on your spike as I gave it to him good an-' he stopped as Ratchet cut him off.

'No, no, he's still a virgin, really, with a virgin spike,' the medic uttered, curving his hand around the noblemech's thigh.

'Then we can show him,' Ironhide replied, glancing back at his bondmate once to show his desire, his conviction to pleasure the youngling before them.

Mirage's optics were dimmed with pleasure, slender fingers convulsively tightening their grip on Ironhide as the two bondmates kept up their attentions. He whimpered a little as his systems warmed up with the sensations. Slowly he started rubbing his own hands on Ironhide's plating, trying to mimic what the two older mechs were doing to him.

Ironhide returned his attention to Mirage, encouraging the mech to touch. That was the main thing virgins needed to overcome in the berth - the hesitance to touch other partners. There really was no wrong touch, in his opinion, unless it was painful, and in the wrong spot. Giving Ratchet a look, he eventually settled over the smaller mech, deftly parting his legs with a knee as he moved back. Ironhide lowered his face and pressed a kiss to the younger mech's panel, letting his lips linger, and he only looked back up to give the noble a big smirk, then continued on.

Mirage shuddered, vents working harder. He lifted his hips up into each kiss, panel finally clicking open for Ironhide. His face grew hotter as he bared himself to the other mech. There was already a sheen of lubricant on his valve entrance from all of the touches.

Ironhide made a pleased noise, then flicked his cerulean optics up to glance at the younger mech. "Good youngling," he purred in a smooth and very deep baritone, his voice rumbling, and Ratchet shivered just from the sound. The medic scooted back and lifted up Mirage's middle, then moved behind him, letting the small blue and white mech rest in his lap. Those lips of Ironhide's drew over that seal that was still over the mech's spike housing and he swirled his glossa around upon it, trying to arouse the mech to extend. It was easier to break the seal that way.

Mirage bucked up against the touch to his seal, moaning. He could feel his spike stirring behind it. The continued licking finally stirred the spike, the shaft of metal pressing more and more insistently against the seal and finally breaking through it. He bit his lip and shuttered his optics as his spike started extending under Ironhide's glossa.

The red painted weapons specialist moved his lips so that the mech could extend. "It's too bad you haven't had a real mech take you," Ironhide chided, and he chuckled when Ratchet growled at him.

The medic laid a protective hand on top of Mirage's chassis. "He doesn't need some tactless brute," he murmured back, and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Mirage's helm.

"Mm," Ironhide murmured, then parted his lips to take that spike in his mouth, laving his glossa over it.

Mirage gasped, arching and involuntarily bucking into Ironhide's mouth. His hands clawed into the berth under him at the feel of Ironhide's smooth glossa over his newly extended, and sensitive, spike. "Ah, Primus..." he moaned, barely able to contain himself. He spread his legs wider, inviting Ironhide closer, bearing himself further to the older mech.

Thankfully Ironhide was experienced enough to compensate for Mirage's movements, and because of their size difference, the older mech was able to completely take the noblemech into his mouth. Ratchet still gently held onto him, keeping him somewhat pinned to make sure that Mirage didn't buck up too hard and hurt the back of Ironhide's throat. That was the last thing he wanted to disassemble and fix. Ironhide's troublesome hip was more than enough. The red mech bobbed his helm up and down, slurping upon Mirage's spike, one that was new and had never been used before.

"Does that feel good?" Ratchet teasingly whispered into the noble's audio, rubbing his faceplates on the back of Mirage's helm.

"Y-yes," Mirage rasped, nodding. He looked down at Ironhide's bobbing head, watching as the mech pulled away enough to reveal the base of his spike before sucking it back into his mouth. His breathing picked up, the sensation and sight arousing him further. "It's warm... a-and wet. Primus." Seeing Ironhide there, he tried to keep better control of his own movements, gently rocking against Ironhide's mouth.

"Mm, yes, he's good with his mouth... how does your spike feel? Stiff? Throbbing?" Ratchet rather teased, moving his face so that his optics weren't far away from Mirage's golden ones. The medic leaned forward and pressed his lips to the corner of Mirage's, then flicked his glossa out to gently tease over that top piece. Ironhide didn't bother looking up, only kept his mouth working over that spike, then sank down all the way and started working his throat, clenching and unclenching like a valve. His rumbling voice started humming, something rather like a laugh, but deep and sensual at the same time. Ratchet reached one hand out and patted the red mech on his helm, chastizing him, while at the same time getting a great deal of lustful joy out of it.

"B-both," Mirage moaned, head lolling back, optics flickering as warnings of over heating and imminent systems overload flashed through his CPU. "Ah! I-I'm close, Ratchet. F-feels like there's a p-pressure in my spike." He tensed, thighs trembling beside Ironhide's head. Moments later he cried out, overloading, transfluid bursting from his spike and filling Ironhide's waiting mouth as he writhed in Ratchet's arms.

"Ah, climax," Ratchet answered, and Ironhide made a noise of agreement, though it was impossible for him to vocalize much with his head where it was. That fluid was easily swallowed down, and the mech worked Mirage for every last drop, his lips affixed to the very tip so he could simply suck at it and milk the rest of the transfluid out, and a small drop of that viscous fluid managed to escape from the corner of his lips to trail down his chin. "Mm, virgin transfluid, it's like sim energon," he murmured after he finally moved off, optics dimmed and low as he blew a breath out at Mirage, very much on purpose, so the noble could catch his own scent.

As Mirage took in the smell of his own transfluid on Ironhide's breath, an almost tangy scent, he felt arousal start to stir back up inside him. He raised a hand, pulling Ironhide over and kissing him, tasting himself on the older mech's lips.

Laughter left him, deep and low, and Ironhide allowed his lips to part so the other mech could taste him fully. Ratchet raised a hand and swatted at him just out of spite, and the red mech leaned up so he could kiss his bondmate over Mirage's helm, pinning the smaller mech in between their frames. "Mm, I remember when you were a virgin," the red mech rumbled to his bondmate, drawing one hand up to rest on Mirage's shoulder. Ratchet laughed, but said nothing.

Mirage smiled, wiggling and settling himself between the bondmates. "Were you Ratchet's first partner, Ironhide?" he asked in curiosity. Normally he'd think it too personal a question, but considering the current circumstances, he didn't think either would take offense at the question.

"Ironhide actually courted me first," the medic replied, drawing his lips down to kiss over one fin like headvent on Mirage's helm, kissing and holding him gently, something similar to what a creator might do. "He actually had tact back then, but that was a long time ago, way back in the golden age. You weren't even a glint in your creator's optics back then," Ratchet chuckled, his lips darting out to kiss Ironhide's again. The red mech muttered something lowly, and Ratchet made a noise back. The red warrior obviously wanted something.

Mirage's engine hummed at the thought, imagining for a moment being courted himself by someone wanting to be his bondmate. Maybe one day it could happen. He nestled closer in Ratchet's arms. "It must have been quite lovely." He looked back to Ironhide at his low mutter. He lifted a hand, rubbing the warrior's arm and smiling up at him.

"It was, until I learned that Ironhide was an absolute animal in the berth, then it was just an excuse to interface as much as possible," the medic murmured.

Ironhide chuckled and reached down to cup a hand between Mirage's legs, rubbing at his valve with his thumb, and he moved his face down to press his lips to the noblemech's again, lightly kissing on them. "We were going to try something else, but Ratchet doesn't think you'd be comfortable with it," he said.

Mirage pressed his hips into the touch, enjoying the light pressure of the thumb circling his valve. "What was it that you wanted to do?" They'd both been so nice to him, the least he could do was hear them out.

"Threesome," Ratchet spoke outright, crossing his arms over his chassis as he gazed at the small mech before him. His lips twitched and he stirred, knowing that Ironhide would be feeling lust far more. After all, Ratchet had gotten some, but his bondmate hadn't... Too bad the slagger had been so busy sleeping. "You'd be on your hands and knees, Ironhide in your valve, my spike in your mouth, but I don't want to rush you into anything," Ratchet said quickly, and he rather feared that the noblemech was far too timid. Interfacing was a totally new game to him, so surely he'd be feeling apprehensive. Ironhide purred out a noise, then slipped his index finger into the entrance of Mirage's valve, playing at the soft and pliable walls right after Ratchet had finished speaking.

Mirage hissed in pleasure as Ironhide fingered him, rocking a little with the red soldier's hand. The thought of being caught between the two like that was a little intimidating, but also erotic. It had felt wonderful when he'd had Ratchet's spike inside him, and Ironhide had obviously liked sucking him. Caution and arousal warred within his CPU. "That... does sound somewhat daunting. But it, ah..." It was hard for Mirage to keep his voice steady when Ironhide's thumb was rubbing inside him. "You've treated me very well, and I know you'd stop if I wanted to. I think... I might enjoy it. I liked when you were in me earlier, and Ironhide liked licking my spike..."

"See?" Ironhide spoke, his gaze shifting to Ratchet, though the medic only scowled in return. The mech nuzzled his face to Mirage's, peppering a trail of kisses along the silvery dermal plating as he gently probed his digit inside of his valve, feeling at the wetness. Of course the trio wouldn't have all morning to mess around, as both Ironhide and Ratchet had duty soon, but there was enough time to engage in a nice overload.

Ratchet still didn't appear too convinced, and shifted uncomfortably, not sure, and he hooked a couple of fingers underneath Mirage's chin, dabbling over the metal. "Alright, if you're okay with it," he murmured, then gripped onto the collar ridge of Mirage's chassis, lightly pulling him forward. His blue optics flickered a shade darker and he murmured, "On your hands and knees... if you will…"

Mirage nodded, giving Ratchet a small smile. He turned over so he was kneeling on his hands and knees, facing Ratchet while displaying his aft for Ironhide. He leaned over, pecking Ratchet on the lips sweetly, trying to ease a little of the medic's worries.

Ironhide shifted as Mirage moved, gathering himself behind the mech, one finger rubbing over the rim of the mech's valve. A pleased noise left him at the lubricant, but it wasn't enough, not with the position they were to assume. The weapons specialist reached a hand into his subspace and pulled out a cool tube of metal, where he then unscrewed the cap and gave it a squeeze, letting the cool gel gather on his fingers. Then he moved to the noblemech's valve and pressed two fingers in, rubbing the artificial lube around to help Mirage. Ratchet too shifted up on his knees, his hand cupping over the back of the mech's helm while the other pulled insistently on his chin, guiding the mech's mouth to his plate.

Mirage hissed through his denta in surprise at the feeling of the cool lube being spread around his valve, almost pulling off of Ironhide's fingers. He leaned back an astrosecond later after the initial shock wore off. He started concentrating on Ratchet instead, rubbing his face over the red pelvic plating. He mimicked what Ironhide had done earlier, kissing it. Then alternated licking it, coming upon the seam that would open to Ratchet's interface equipment. He experimentally licked it, then grew a little bolder, running his glossa along the seam.

"Mm, there you go, good," Ratchet murmured, his hands caressing Mirage's shoulders and helm, though the medic carefully leaned forward to kiss Ironhide over the expanse of Mirage between them. They broke off as Ironhide framed his hands over the smaller mech's hips, pulling him to the correct angle, while another hand pressed down on the noble's backstrut to get him to arch his back. They were clearly directing the engagement, but that didn't mean they held no care for Mirage. In fact, probably the most. The medic let his plate slide back, nearly the same time as Ironhide, though he didn't let his spike extend right then. "Just concentrate on me, don't worry about Ironhide," the CMO spoke, a pair of fingers ghosting over those supple lips that were kissing on him.

"Mhmm," Mirage moaned. His glossa darted out, swiping over Ratchet's fingers. Then he licked along the medic's spike housing, trying to coax it out. His fingers curled a little in the berth, hips leaning back into Ironhide's.

As Ratchet looked at the young mech between he and his mate, he couldn't help but feel that, someday, Mirage would find a truly charitable and loving bondmate. He had several traits; beauty, obvious intelligence, an ease to adapt to new situations and conditions and enjoy them, and innocent kindness. Though, with the war, Ratchet didn't know how long that innocence would remain.

'You're doing it again,' Ironhide said over the bond, his blue optics looking hazily at his mate while he rubbed his pelvic unit on Mirage's aft, rubbing their components together. 'You get too attached, knock it off,' he growled, warning his bondmate. Too many times did Ratchet become attached to his patients, lovers, and it killed him every time they died, whether on Ratchet's table or by the hand of the enemy. The red mech gave one pointed look and returned to petting Mirage's hips, extending his spike with a grunt, then sighed in pleasure at the relieved pressure. Slowly he eased his hips forward, pressing himself calmly into that valve waiting for him. Delicious friction surround him, encompassing in nature. Then he paused, optics off as his lips parted in a harsh breath of pleasure. 'Ooh, he's got a nice valve...'

'Indeed, noble make, expensive stuff,' Ratchet teased. His thighs tensed at the feelings over the bond, where he then let his own spike extend, fingers brushing lovingly over Mirage's helm. "Be careful of your denta," he only warned. Getting bit was one of the worst things that could happen.

"Of course," Mirage murmured, breathing softly over the extended spike. He parted his legs further, bracing himself on his hands and knees better against the berth, moaning at the feel of Ironhide's spike pressing inside, filling him. He rubbed his cheek along the base of Ratchet's spike, then licked it, up to the tip. He carefully took it between his lips, suckling on it, running his glossa on it's underside.

Ironhide took his hands and firmly grasped Mirage's hips, careful not to hurt him, but only to keep him in place. With a more experienced mech, especially with this position, he wouldn't have bothered, but it was important that he enjoyed it, and didn't hurt Ratchet. If Ironhide thrust forward too hard he could accidentally force Mirage to close his jaw, so he simply settled for gripping onto the mech's hips. Then he gently thrust his hips forward, spike mostly rubbing onto the top wall of Mirage's valve, and he shuddered at the lubricant that ran down his spike and interfacing array below from the act.

Ratchet was looking down, attention on the mech that was sucking him off. His red fingers gently touched over the expanse of Mirage's cheeks, teasing into the hollows created from Ratchet's spike in his mouth. "Good, ahhh, you're doing fine," he sighed, lips working as he curbed the impulse to thrust forward.

Mirage took in more of Ratchet's spike, taking half of it into his mouth. He moaned at Ironhide's slow thrusts, sending light vibrations through the warm metal in his mouth. He lifted a hand, the other keeping him propped up, stroking over the base of Ratchet's spike. Slowly he started to take in more, before pulling back a little skittishly. He'd felt the spike pushing into his throat tubing, nearly gagging him. He resumed sucking on the half in his mouth, stroking the base with his hand.

Of course Mirage wouldn't be able to take all of him in, he still had his choking reflex, though Ironhide and Ratchet were experienced enough with oral that they did it easily, and with style. But such things couldn't be helped. When Ironhide pressed his hips forward, Mirage moved the slightest bit onto Ratchet's spike, because the weapon's specialist couldn't help but make some recoil.

"Mm, nice, good Mirage," Ratchet chanted, his knees shaky as he kept up his position, one hand drifted down and he fastened it around the base of his spike, squeezing, and making sure that Mirage couldn't take too much of him down by accident. Oh, it was a sight to see Ironhide gently thrusting his hips forward, using all the patience on Cybertron, and the medic could see his spike, shining with lubricant, sliding in and out of the noblemech's valve.

"Dear Primus," Ratchet groaned out loud. His hips twitched forward, though he held himself, and hissed as the dim lights in the room shadowed the plating on Mirage's back, everything moving so erotically.

Mirage couldn't help a proud little purr of his engine, sensing how aroused Ratchet was. He sucked harder, cheeks hollowing and making soft noises of suction. He started humming like Ironhide had done to him as he moved up and down the spike.

He writhed as much as Ironhide's grip on his hips allowed. The gentler thrusts were a significant contrast to when he'd 'faced Ratchet earlier. The build-up of heat and energy in his circuits was slower as the thick spike in his valve brushed over his pleasure sensors. He liked it though, it made him squirm on his hands and knees, he could savor the pleasurable burn in his system.

Overload was coming easily for Ratchet, slowly, though he could feel that acute buildup of pleasure originating from his spike. "Ahh, Mirage, you're so beautiful," he cooed, rubbing his hand along the mech's backstrut as far as he could reach without jarring his hips forward. Likewise Ironhide kept the movements easy and slow, his hand shifting to touch in between their frames, and he leaned back, moving to the side so he could press a digit inside of Mirage alongside of his spike as he thrust, petting and stretching those valve walls for even more sensation. It would also help restrain him from moving too fast, though, despite everything, his speed did increase.

Mirage whimpered around Ratchet's spike, hips jerking with the inclusion of Ironhide's finger in his valve. He arched into Ratchet's touch like a cybercat seeking it's master's hand. The increased pace and stretch of his valve was encouraging the energy in his frame to rise faster, bringing his overload closer and closer. He could feel the finger in him crooking and teasing inside in ways Ironhide's spike couldn't, getting both the flexibility of something pressing on all the right spots inside him, and the feel of all the inner wiring and pleasure nodes being stimulated at once by a thick spike.

Ratchet gripped harder to Mirage's shoulder, though was careful not to dig into his plating. "Ahh, Mirage, I'm there," he groaned, and couldn't help but give a singular thrust of his hips forward, his spike spurting that transfluid into the noblemech's waiting mouth. Thought and feelings mixed over the bond, the pleasure swirling around until he didn't know where Ironhide's began and his ended. Of course his spark swelled within his chassis, in adoration for his lover and the mech between them, and he stiffened up, his overload finally subsiding.

Ironhide increased his pace, thrusts becoming jerky, though a pleased and blissful expression was on his face, getting quite a bit of pleasure from taking a youngling in such a position, and from his bondmate's overload. "Ahh, you're a bit quick Ratchet," he teased, vents whirring loudly as he felt his finger around in his smaller lover's valve.

Mirage swallowed down what he could of Ratchet's transfluid, a couple of trickles still escaping the corners of his mouth. He pulled himself off of the medic's spike, whimpering and grunting with Ironhide's thrusts. He planted his hands on the berth, bracing himself as he rocked with the older warrior's movements. His back arched, fingers curling into claws as the coiled pleasure in his valve released. He cried out with his overload, trembling under Ironhide as his valve clenched around the red mech's spike.

Ironhide gasped as Mirage came, his finger slipping out of Mirage's valve so he could grasp to the mech's hips, slamming him back onto his spike, their metal frames squealing together. Driving deep, he climaxed as well, his denta gritting harshly together as he thrust forward, spike emptying that viscous fluid inside of Mirage. "Ahh, Mirage," Ironhide spoke, "you have a nice valve." It was true, Mirage had one of the nicest valves he'd felt, perfectly snug and contoured. Pulling out slowly, he shivered as a mixture of their fluid followed, and he dipped a finger down in the sticky mess, then brought it to his lips for a taste.

"Thank you," Mirage replied, smiling shyly back at Ironhide. He slowly pulled away to sit beside Ratchet. He leaned into the medic's side, feeling a little dazed from his two overloads, but warm and content as well.

Ratchet wrapped his arms around the smaller mech, drawing him onto his lap to cradle. "Thank you," the medic whispered, nuzzling his face into the noblemech's helm, pressing soft little kisses to one of his helm fins. A sigh left him, and he made a soft noise as Ironhide drew closer to them, his arms moving to circle Ratchet's shoulders, holding onto him. "Duty soon," Ironhide observed, and he pressed a kiss to Mirage's helm and thanked him as well, then kissed his mate. He stood and hoped off the berth, swaying slightly, and Ratchet clicked his glossa. "Same here," he said. "I've got to go now, you can stay here as long as you need to," he murmured to Mirage.

"Thank you, but I need to go back to my quarters soon. Jazz said he would be seeing me soon to show me around the base. And test out my skills for spy training." Mirage laughed at a sudden thought. "He said to expect an eventful day, but I don't think he had this in mind."


	3. Sweet Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation from 'Sweet as Candy' and 'Sweet Spark'. Mirage takes a tour of the base, and while in the commissary, gets a show regardless of whether he wants it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Sweet Relief  
> Authors:vectorsigma3441 as Jazz, Hound, Tracks, Prowl and Sunstreaker.diamondunicorn as Mirage and Sideswipe.  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Characters/Pairings: Mirage, Jazz, Tracks, Hound, Prowl, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, brief mention of Trailbreaker. Sideswipe/Sunstreaker.  
> Summary: A continuation from 'Sweet as Candy' and 'Sweet Spark'. Mirage takes a tour of the base, and while in the commissary, gets a show regardless of whether he wants it or not.  
> Series: G1 AU  
> Warnings: Slash, explicit sex, twincest, public sex, irrumation, mild verbal/physical abuse, oral.

After another, shorter, wash in Ratchet and Ironhide's shower room, Mirage was ready to go back to his quarters to meet Jazz. The wash left him refreshed, and saying goodbye to the pair left him with a warm feeling in his spark, lifting his mood to new heights from his initial arrival. He was, however, shocked to see Jazz leaning against the wall opposite of the medbay door. The smile he had was friendly at least, if amused.

"Ah, hello, Jazz," Mirage said, appearing unruffled, despite his surprise. "I'm sorry for not being in my quarters to meet you. . . but Ratchet asked me here early for a systems check," he fibbed, feeling half his age and caught releasing his creator's prized turbo hounds for a romp on the estate grounds.

"'ello, 'Raj," Jazz spoke, expression calm, if a bit kindly. "Don't worry about it, you're new, so I'm not gonna go off on ya, just try ta remember next time before ya make plans, I'ma busy mech," the saboteur spoke, animatedly, lifting his hands to make gestures while his visor flared in emphasis. He flashed the mech before him a brief smile, denta glinting bright white in the lighting, then turned tail and started walking. Jazz's frame was an attractively lithe and slim design as per description of his position of rank. Saboteurs were slim and strong, smart, with a good knowledge of protocol and strategy. The words 'enforcer' were emblazoned across his back canopy, though that had been his job title before the war. A hallway was to the left and Jazz pointed his fingers towards it, "Wreckers use this hallway, another subdivision of the special ops that I command," he said.

Mirage nodded, keeping in step with Jazz as he looked down the indicated hallway. Jazz had told him of the roles of special ops yesterday, before Mirage had agreed to join. They had several functions, intelligence gathering, spying, infiltration, sabotage. It was a dangerous group to be a part of, they didn't just risk dying, their duties put them at high risk of being captured. . . and being a Decepticon captive was a fate worse than death.

They were an essential part of the Autobots though, just like the medical unit or the frontline warriors. Mirage had agreed to the danger with little hesitance, he only had his life left to offer and he wanted to put it to good use stopping the Decepticons. "What do they do? Will we be working beside them often?"

"Ahh, they're our failsafe, the ones we call in when slag really gets tough," Jazz spoke, walking briskly along. "Springer is commander of that division, though I'm the next commander over him, and then it's Prowl and then Optimus," he quickly listed off.

Striding ahead, he greeted a few mechs that were loitering outside in the hallways and then stopped outside a pair of doublewide doors, boisterous laughter and noise coming from within. "An' here's the commissary, ya can spend off time in here doing whatever ya'd like, or your break time. It's just a place to congregate, and someplace where mechs look for their nightly lays, so watch out if ya ain't lookin' for nothing." The saboteur turned again, though a blue colored hand had clasped him on the shoulder. The silver mech turned and looked, his facial expression brightening and he reached up to kiss this new mech full on the mouth. "Hey babe," he spoke, smiling, though the new mech's attention had turned towards Mirage.

He uttered a soft greeting to Jazz and then stuck his hand out to Mirage. "Hello, I'm Tracks, you are. . .?" he said, golden optics glittering softly.

"I'm Mirage," he took the offered hand in his own, inclining his head to Tracks in greeting. "It's nice to meet you."

Tracks made a simpering noise, his lips curling up in a half-held smile. It was if he found Mirage equally attractive and distasteful at the same time. "Nice to meet you as well," he murmured, then let go of the mech's hand. Shifting, he pressed close to Jazz and smothered him in another heated kiss, their lips barely parting before he dove back in for more. "You should bring him back with you tonight. . . we could have some fun," the dark blue colored mech murmured, his lips and the saboteur's only a scant distance apart.

"Nahh," Jazz said, "he ain't mine, ya silly and utterly untactful mech." With a parting embrace he turned back to Mirage and motioned him onwards, the light flaring in his visor, half in annoyance and half in amusement.

Mirage gave Tracks a polite smile. "It's a nice offer, but I really must decline. I'm still trying to adjust to living here, after all." He turned, following after Jazz.

"He's friendly," Mirage said as they got out of Track's audio range.

"Yes, he is," Jazz spoke, glancing back quickly to the young mech behind him so he could flash another smile. Hardly any would deny that Jazz was charming, and of the mechs on the base, he managed to charm quite a few of them back to his berth for a late night romp. Notorious for being utterly kinky on the berth, he was as smooth on it as he was off of it. The saboteur, 3IC, picked up his pace and walked briskly forward, pointing at things and calling out what they were. Normally he would take more time to show some as. . . attractive as Mirage around, but he really didn't have time. There was a meeting with several subdivision commanders that he needed to attend, not to mention Prime's personal cabinet meeting. Beside another pair of wide doors he stopped, then called out a greeting to a mech inside.

"Here's Prowl, second-in-command of th' Autobots," he said, motioning to the black and white mech within. "Been lookin' for this piece of scrap for near three hours," the smaller mech griped.

Prowl, who had been practicing forms, paused in mid pose, his face cool and aloof. There was an obvious air of nobility about him, standoffish seeming, though he smiled and greeted his lieutenant back. "Ah, you should've hailed me, if that was the case," he spoke. He smiled again, this time at Mirage. "Hello," he said simply.

"Hello," Mirage said back. Although they'd already met, Mirage hadn't really had the opportunity to appreciate Prowl, or any of his surroundings. He'd been too focused on his own thoughts, worried about what he was going to do in the Autobots, and in a place of strangers so unlike himself.

Now though, in the bright lighting of the training room instead of dim hallway lights for the recharge cycle, he could see the clean, pristine condition Prowl kept his armor. His straight posture, and the fluid, precise movements he'd been going through moments before hinted at a life of instruction of holding himself to perfect balance, like most noble sparked. "I saw Ratchet for an appointment earlier, as you said. He told me you're from Praxus nobility. It's a pleasure to meet another noble." He placed a hand over his spark, bowing his head to Prowl, as had been the customary greeting among Towers.

"Likewise," Prowl greeted back, his lips smiling, though his crystalline blue optics were as icy as ever. Not uncompassionate, just hard and cultured through a long life. He too twisted his hand over his spark and bowed his helm, and answered the mech after Mirage was finished speaking. "That's good, then you'll receive all of your direct orders from Jazz, unless otherwise dictated," he spoke concisely.

With one last smile he centered his attention back upon Jazz again. "What is so mildly important that you would wander around looking for me, but not hail me on the comm?" his silver lips questioned, timbre perhaps even cooler than before. There was a tangible air around the two mechs, one that seemed to be of intimate origins - a fighting couple perhaps, or even a recent breakup between them. Whatever it was, it was clear that the pair were on rather frosty terms with one another.

Jazz's face scrunched up and his lips quivered, but he nodded, gripping harshly to the datapad in his hand. "Don't worry about it," he said breezily, "I'll take care of it myself. C'mon 'Raj, let's go do Prowl's work for 'em."

"Alright," Mirage said, nodding to Jazz, feeling almost a little lost at the pair's exchange. He gave Prowl a last look, "It was nice seeing you." He left with Jazz, moving quicker than previously away from the room. "What work are we doing for Prowl, exactly?"

"As with you," Prowl had replied to Mirage, though was hardly perturbed at the situation, and how quickly the pair had left.

"Ahh," Jazz said, then turned a smile onto his smaller counterpart. "Sorry ya had to see that, Prowl an' I get along half as well as we should, givin' the circumstance, and we'll be talkin' ta some of th' senators, er, well I will, you're free ta go as of now," the small saboteur spoke, and he trotted off. "Feel free ta wander around th' base yourself, I've got enough work ta choke Omega Supreme," he called over his shoulder, "I'll come back for ya later after you familiarize yourself with the rest of the base!" he called out, and took off down the hallway.

Mirage sighed, watching Jazz walk off. He looked up and down the hall, wondering what to do. Perhaps he should try to get to know some of the other Autobots more. He was going to be working and living with them, after all. He decided to head for the commissary.

It was easy to locate. He wavered at the entrance, feeling a surge of anxiety at seeing so many other mechs mulling around inside. Most of the tables in the room were filled with mechs playing table-top and card games. One table had a group of mechs gathered, one holding a hand-held viewing screen, and watching something on it. Mirage suddenly felt completely out of his depth, and wavered in the doorway, not sure what to do.

After a few moments, he took the only empty table in the room and watched. He didn't know what made him think to come here, these weren't his sort of mechs. One on one, he could probably handle talking to them, but such a large group, he felt so much like an outsider, and didn't know how to approach them.

They were loud, happy to trade jokes and playful insults, elbowing and slapping each other on the backs. The Towers weren't anything like this. They were quite, proper, polite. Unless you were family, or close friends, you'd never be so open and tactile with another. And certainly there wouldn't be a couple in a corner on the floor, one sitting in the other's lap, and feverishly kissing each other.

But, another mech had seen Mirage enter, and he was interested, very much so. Hound intently watched from where he was sitting at a table playing cards with a few other special ops mechs, his kindly gaze pinned to the noblemech's form. After another round he folded, placing his holo-backed cards onto the table and stood up, stirring a nearly sleeping Trailbreaker who had been resting on his lap, and quickly crossed the room to grab two energon cubes. He approached the table with the new mech seated in it, smiling broadly at him. Hound placed one cube on the table and outstretched his hand in greeting. "Hello, my name's Hound, couldn't help but notice you over here."

Mirage took the hand, shaking it. "I'm Mirage, nice to meet you. I just got here, I was thinking of trying to get to know some of the other mechs here, but. . . well, I'm a little out of my depth. I wasn't sure what to do." He brought the cube over, taking a drink. He smiled at Hound. "Thank you for the cube."

"No problem," Hound said, and he took the opportunity to pull up a chair. Several moments of awkward silence ensued, and Hound rubbed the back his palm onto his helm after he had taken a sip from his cube. Spotting two mechs over in the corner getting rather heated, he let a chuckle fall from his lips. Hound motioned with one black colored hand to the pair. "The yellow one is Sunstreaker, the red one is Sideswipe, our favorite frontliner twins," he said, amusement in his tone. "You wanna leave those two alone, unless your intake manifolds are made out of titanium," he joked.

"Note taken," Mirage replied. He studied the yellow twin a moment. "You said Sunstreaker? He had a few pieces in the Towers. He was quite good, despite that punching incident." He smiled in memory of the news article detailing the volatile mech's actions to another noble's rude comments.

"Oh yes, he's very protective of what's his, and that includes Sideswipe," the dark green colored mech replied, sounding almost wistful. "But, those two are bonded to Prime, so he holds them in check. . . usually. So it's not like they'd hurt you bad or anything, but they do have excellent ways of pranking, and perhaps the occasional punch, I suppose."

"The Prime? Really? That's surprising actually. I didn't even know he was bonded. Then again. . . I suppose that's not something you'd make common knowledge." His optics trailed over the room's other occupants, looking thoughtful. "This is all so different to what I know." He chuckled. "My creator's would have peeled off my plating if they ever saw me with mechs like this."

"Yeah, it means they get away with doing stuff. . . drives Prowl crazy. . . poor mech. . ." Hound chuckled. He flicked his blue optics to Mirage, though looked away when he saw abrupt movement. "Oh, here they go," the green mech murmured, his voice greedy. "Might get a show out of them yet. . ."

True to Hound's words, the golden mech had stood up, his twin's legs around his waist while he cleared a table with a sweep of his arm and slammed the red mech down upon it, knocking over several cubes of energon a few patrons at the table had been drinking, though they made no protests as they realized what was going to happen. Sunstreaker's blue optics were wild with lust, no longer able to keep doing the light and pleasurable teasing they had been engaging in for what seemed like a long forever. He gave a few mock thrusts forward, then as quickly as he had pressed his rather surprised twin onto the table he pushed Sideswipe off and to the floor, Sunstreaker's impressive talons gripping to his brother's collar ridge, holding him. He pushed the red mech to his knees and gave him a light smack across the face, playful for them, but mean to anyone else. "Suck me off first," the golden twin demanded shortly, "then maybe I'll give you some."

Sideswipe smirked up at Sunstreaker, unperturbed by the treatment. "Sure thing, Sunshine," he teased. He rubbed his face along his twin's interface panel, kissing and licking it. His engine rumbled. "Ooh, you used the good tasting wax today."

Mirage stared, open mouthed at the sight. This base just kept on surprising him.

"Oh yes, only the best for your mouth. . ." the golden twin replied, his optics shuttering as he held the back of his twin's helm, pushing those lips harder to his panel, legs almost obscenely spread. Sunstreaker's aft was resting on the table, and several other mechs were leaning over to get the best look. Though, they hardly looked surprised, just aroused. It was something the twins did regularly. "Ooh, Sideswipe, you have such 'faceable lips. . . makes me wanna pry your mouth open and just thrust. . . and when I come I'll pull out and get my transfluid all over your face. . . I know you love that. . ." he whispered.

Sideswipe hummed happily at his brother's words. "Mmm, yes. Open up, Sunny, and let me suck down that beautiful spike of yours." He rested his hands on Sunstreaker's thighs, rubbing them as he kept kissing the yellow panel his face was pressed against. "Wanna feel you all the way down my throat, my face pressed against your bared interface panel as you thrust into my mouth."

Those words had Sunstreaker tossing his head back to moan, and he did let his panel open, spike swiftly extending right thereafter. Though he hooked his fingers under Sideswipe's chin to grab his attention for a few moments. It was a dominance issue, one the golden mech always attended to. Shifting his hips forward, he rubbed his shaft against Sideswipe's cheek and face guard, getting some sort of perverse pleasure out of it. Of course, Sunstreaker wasn't exactly a small mech, his spike was evenly proportionate with his frame, and he was rather hefty and large. Several purrs and coos from the crowd echoed around the room, all optics watching the pair greedily, wishing they could have the same. Then the golden mech directed Sideswipe's lips to his spike. "Open, open. . ." he said in a sing-song voice.

Sideswipe obediently did, taking the spike almost to the base with an experienced fluidness. He moaned around it, optics darkening in pleasure, just from having his brother's spike in his mouth. His hips twitched, as though needing stimulation, but he kept his hands off himself, instead stroking Sunstreaker's own hips. He moved back and forth on his twin's spike, making loud slurping noises for the crowd as he went.

"Ooh, good whore," Sunstreaker commented, his legs spread and hips arched forward as Sideswipe sucked him off. Everything felt so raw and pleasurable, like he'd never had his spike touched before. . . But after a few moments the bliss tapered off in the slightest bit, making Sunstreaker sigh, and he gripped his hands tightly to his twin's jaw, forcing him to keep his mouth open. Then he began thrusting forward into his twin's mouth, his intakes hitching every few moments. It was a feeling like no other. He could feel the tip of his spike hitting the back of Sideswipe's throat, and he praised Primus that he had trained his brother out of his gag reflex. Of course, sucking off Optimus Prime on a regular basis usually cured that. . .

Sideswipe let out a muffled groan, riding out his brother's thrusts. He worked his throat tubing, tightening it around Sunstreaker's spike. His fingers trailed along his twin's thighs, his hips, around his aft and up his backstrut. Feeling up the smooth, perfect golden plating. He revved his engine, sending warm vibrations along Sunstreaker's spike.

"Ooh, like that?" Sunstreaker grunted, thrusting his hips forward, but it was gentle, as he didn't want to risk tearing the back lining of his brother's throat. Ratchet would forever hate him if he did that. He shifted his foot down and rubbed his shin guard against the panel between his twin's spread legs. "There you go," Sunstreaker moaned, his one pede curling in pleasure from where he was standing, while the other still shifted against his twin's plate. The crowd was deathly silent, watching with rapt attention, and Hound dipped his finger into his cube, playing with the liquid as he watched intently, intakes barely pulling anything in.

Sideswipe whined around his brother's spike, panel clicking open as he rubbed against Sunstreaker's pede. He shifted in his spot, rubbing along the golden leg, hands moving to wrap around it, holding close to his brother as he ground against him, still sucking hard on Sunstreaker's spike.

From his own vantage point, Mirage pressed his legs tightly together, watching intently. The sight was optic catching. The twins were both handsome, and the sounds they were making and their dirty talk only enhanced the experience.

Sunstreaker could feel the wetness from his twin's valve dribbling along his leg, and he rubbed against his brother, trying to bring him some degree of pleasure. He was getting close, with the crowd, and with Sideswipe working so vigorously with him, he couldn't deny his climax. Sunstreaker let out a heavy groan of pleasure, his optics off as he thrust into his brother's mouth, and as he had said, he shifted his hips back enough and pulled out, letting his transfluid splash on his twin's face. The golden twin rested heavily against the (thankfully bolted down) commissary table, his chassis heaving with the effort.

Sideswipe grinned, licking up some of the transfluid trickling down the corner of his lip. He scraped more up with his finger, then started licking it off. "Mmm, you taste so good, Sunny, like rich high grade." He got up, leaning against Sunstreaker, leaving them face-to-face. He wiped up more of the transfluid, sucking it off his finger, while leering at his brother.

Sunstreaker grabbed at his twin's hips, pulling their exposed interfacing arrays close, and he darted his glossa out to lick off a trail of his transfluid from his twin's face. It tasted good, and he purred a few noises out, kissing a little trail up, smearing his lips in his milky purplish colored transfluid. A hand drifted down and he felt for his twin's valve, pressing two digits inside to feel at the wetness. "Oh, Sideswipe. . . you should save all of this lubricant for Prime. . ." he teased gently, then began thrusting his fingers, making sure his own wrist bumped into his extended spike, stimulating himself at the same time.

Sideswipe groaned, grinding on Sunstreaker's fingers and kissing his twin. "We can get me plenty lubricated for Prime when he's done with his meeting. I want to be faced now. I want your big spike pounding my tight little valve." He drew Sunstreaker into a long, intense kiss, tangling his glossa with his twin as he leaned over him on the table.

"Mm, flattery will get you nowhere dear brother," Sunstreaker murmured, feeling the lubricant from his twin's valve coating his fingers and moistening his joints. The golden mech slipped to the side and fastened his hand around his brother's neck, pushing him down on the tabletop face first, aft up in the air. "Let these nice mechs see your wretched facial expressions, hmm?" he teased, trailing a hand down his backstrut, where both of his hands gripped onto his twin's aft, holding him there. Sunstreaker wasted no time and thrust his hips forward, pressing himself into that valve, while rocking the table forward from his movements.

Sideswipe hissed between his denta at the quick, forceful entry, almost sounding like he was in pain. However the grin on his face and the pleased rumble of his engine said otherwise. He spread his legs further apart for Sunstreaker, hands coming up to brace his body against the table. He looked up, winking at the table occupants as his grin widened.

Sunstreaker shook his head, smiling, and he rammed his hips forward, then arched back and used the muscle cables in his stomach to thrust back into his twin. His hands pulled Sideswipe's hips back against him and he noted how wet his twin felt, more so than usual. "Ooh, you love it when I dominate you in public, don't you?" the golden twin purred, starting a strong and fast rolling motion with his hips.  
Sideswipe groaned, tossing his head back, arching under Sunstreaker. His hands braced him against the table, fingers digging into it. "Yes, love it when you're giving it to me hard and fast, in front of everyone. They're all looking at us, wanting us," he growled, grinding back into his brother, moaning sensuously as Sunstreaker's spike slid back and forth inside him.

"Who wouldn't want us?" Sunstreaker challenged back, a pleased look on his face as he slammed his hips forward again, then leaned down so he could curve his stomach plating with the arch of his twin's back, using short and forceful thrusts to rock the table they were both leaning on. Mechs around the room, he noticed, were doing some self-service, along with a couple getting rather friendly with their mates. Though he noticed a pretty white and blue mech, one he hadn't seen before, and flashed him a smile, his hands shifted to the edges of the table to use even more force.

Sideswipe wailed under his brother, jerking against the table with each thrust. Metal squealed in protest under them with their movements. "Sunny, Sunny, ah yes, harder, faster, make me overload, I'm so close, so hot for you," Sideswipe panted, writhing, humping the table edge with Sunstreaker's thrusts.

Every noise Sideswipe made urged Sunstreaker on faster, his harsh movements making it impossible to hold off overload for long, though he would always hold out for his twin. "Of course you are," Sunstreaker grunted, one hand moving up so he could push the back of his twin's helm to the table, rubbing Sideswipe's cheek guard into the cool metal, sneering. His thrusts were turning jerky and he shut his optics off, lips parted as he slammed his hips forward, his pelvic unit meeting with the metal of his twin's aft. "Ahh, yes," he said as his climax started, feeling his twin so acutely around him.

Sideswipe followed his overload within moments, crying out, bowing under Sunstreaker, pressing closer to the golden frame against his. His legs and arms twitched with his overload, until he fell limp on the table, grinning satedly. "Mm, Sunny, you're so good," he murmured.  
Sunstreaker sighed at the feel of their combined fluids, and he slowly eased his overly sensitive spike out of his brother's valve, his expression blissful. The golden mech retracted his spike and eased his panel shut, shivering at the feeling of such a good overload. He shifted away from his red twin and pulled Sideswipe around on his front. He then smothered a kiss onto his twin's lips, open mouthed and sloppy. "Ahh, you're such a good little whore," he teased.

"Learned from the best," Sideswipe said cheekily, settling his hands on Sunstreaker's hips. He glanced down at the table, chuckling. "Oh, look, we dented the new table." He didn't sound at all remorseful.

"Indeed," Sunstreaker said back, smiling in that cool and aloof way, then reached down to pull his twin into another kiss, humming quietly while noises filled the commissary again, cheers and whistles and goads for encores.

Hound, who was feeling so very hot from the show, glanced blankly at Mirage, and a silly little smile came upon his face. "Those are shows you'll probably see quite a bit, not just from them, though," he chuckled, and reached his hand out to take a drink from his cube. Hound's optics were dark, and then they brightened, realizing something. "Slag!" he proclaimed, and jumped up, quickly grabbing his cube to finish the last draught. "Gotta go, I've got patrol, nice meetin' ya!" he said, then turned on his heel and trotted out of the room, then broke into a run once he was outside of the doors.

"Nice meeting you too!" Mirage called after him right as Hound was running off. He turned back to his cube, a small smile on his lips. "What have I gotten myself into?" he asked, not all that regretful. There were certainly worse ways to start a day.


	4. Mixed Sweets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourth installment of the Sweets 'verse. Mirage continues trying to adjust among the Autobots, while Hound and Trailbreaker enjoy an intimate moment together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Mixed Sweets  
> Authors: vectorsigma3441 as Prowl, Bumblebee, Jazz, and Hound. diamondunicorn as Mirage and Trailbreaker.  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Characters/Pairings: Jazz, Prowl, Bumblebee, Mirage, Trailbreaker/Hound  
> Summary: Fourth installment of the Sweets 'verse. Mirage continues trying to adjust among the Autobots, while Hound and Trailbreaker enjoy an intimate moment together.  
> Series: G1  
> Warnings: Explicit sex

It was early in the base, and Mirage could see no one else up as he walked through the halls, heading for the commissary. Then again, even by military standards, he was up early. He was content to spend these moments alone. Considering all the personnel in the base, he'd rarely have time to himself again.

Entering the commissary, there was only one other mech in it, Prowl. He was at a table with a cube of energon and looking over a datapad. Mirage got his own cube from the dispenser, slowly approaching Prowl's table. "Prowl, may I have a seat with you?" As the only other noble in the base, Mirage was interested in getting to know Prowl, to reconnect with a link to the culture he'd been raised in. Perhaps Prowl was even someone Mirage could eventually call a friend.

Of course the tactician had heard the mech enter, though he hadn't paid much attention. Mechs were always coming and going, and Prowl couldn't be bothered to acknowledge everyone. Though at his name being spoken, the SIC lifted his head up and smiled at the young mech. He even went so far as to stand up and reach out to shake Mirage's hand, grasping it firmly. "Sure, of course you can," the mech murmured, then let go of the other noble's hand and sat back down, flicking his datapad to the side of the table to not seem rude.

"Thank you," Mirage said, taking a seat. Only after sitting down, he realized just what table they were sitting at, and he felt his face flush. It was the same table he'd seen the twin warriors, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, using yesterday. "I thought I was the only one up this early. The rest of the base seems to still be resting." Mirage put aside the memories, despite the dent in the table edge that was within arm's reach. He wondered if he should tell Prowl, and then wondered if anyone had even bothered cleaning the table since yesterday.

"Ah, there you're wrong," Prowl murmured, his optics kindly as he brought his gaze up to the other mech. "I'm up at the crack of dawn every day, usually an hour or two before Cybertron's sun comes up," he said, smiling, and he shifted his delicate hand to pick up his cube, where he brought it to his lips to take a draught. Of course his frame was as pristine as ever, not a dent or a scratch, and his clear coat was covered with a layer of wax, professional, but not overdone. "So I'll ask you now, why are you up so early?" the mech questioned.

Mirage smiled almost shyly. "Pent up tension, I suppose. I don't rest well in new environments usually. And I've always been somewhat of an early riser. I think I'll get used to living here soon enough, though."

"I see," Prowl said, tapping his digits upon the table, and his gaze flicked down as he noticed a discrepancy. "The audacity of some mechs," the black and white mech murmured, pressing one finger in the sizable dent. "Just because they work and live here doesn't mean they own everything." Those blue optics flickered as he made a face, one of annoyance, but it straightened out.

Mirage nodded absently, optics drawn to Prowl's finger tracing the dent. The twin's display yesterday had left many in the room with images to tease themselves over, Mirage included. He wondered what it was like, to be treated roughly and called intolerable things, to love it, to have so many optics on you in such an intimate act. The twins had obviously loved it.

Ratchet would probably be kind, but firm if he did it, easing Mirage down on his front, teasing his entrance before taking him. Telling him how beautiful he was, how sweet, how much he was desired. Ironhide would be rougher, but no less kind, complimenting Mirage's valve, how good he looked under him, maybe comment on the sounds he'd make or how he'd writhe under him. The thought almost made Mirage shiver.

Prowl stopped speaking, his lips quivering as he noticed the far off look the other mech had developed. "Mirage?" he asked carefully, reaching out with one hand to brush his digits across the mech's cheek guard. "Are you okay? Perhaps you should go back and recharge, you look rather tired," the tactician noted. His doorwings flared higher and he drew his hand away, sheepishly smiling. He knew that more often than not, most nobles didn't like to be touched suddenly or without invite.

Mirage was drawn from his thoughts, shaking his head with a polite smile. "No, I'm fine. Thank you for your concern, though. I'm just thinking. The last couple of days have been eventful for me. It's a lot to take in." He took a drink from his cube, trying to shake off the thoughts left from yesterday.

"Alright then," Prowl said, though concern was written all over his face. "If you ever... have a mech, or even a femme make unwanted advances towards you, come talk to me about it and we can get it solved... I'll not have any of my soldiers having problems..." he spoke slowly, gaze flicking back to his datapad as he took it between his fingers, lightly stroking at it in the absentminded nature that stole over him.

Mirage nodded. "I will if it happens. Although everyone has been quite nice to me." Granted, there had been advances, and so much more. He'd wondered the night before, whether he should take up other offers of interface. Maybe when he got to know them better. Some seemed like they were would be good partners. He'd even thought about approaching Ratchet and Ironhide again, they'd been so careful and considerate with him, and seemed to like him.

But what about the other mechs? He'd noticed the looks of some of them. How would they treat him? Rough? Gentle? Would they hold him against a wall like Ratchet had? Or take him from behind like Ironhide? Warm him up by licking his valve or sucking on his spike? What if they bent him back over a table, held him down and teased him, before pushing him up taking him right there, pounding into him like Sunstreaker had Sideswipe, like Ratchet had done with him in his medbay.

"Well that's good," Prowl responded. "Just don't ever hesitate in talking to me." He drew a datapad up and glanced at it, occasionally taking sips from his cube. He was hardly perturbed by being with anyone else, and while it didn't appear that he was ignoring Mirage, it also didn't appear that he was paying rapt attention to the mech. Prowl was a busy mech, and he was reading over the day's itinerary, things he needed to do, and things he needed to make sure Prime did, and also Jazz. It was tough being in the commanding position of SIC, because he was flooded with quite a few jobs.

"I won't," Mirage said. He sat in silence with Prowl, taking sips from his cube. "How hard was it for you to adjust to Autobot behavior? We were never so open in the Towers, at least not in public. My creators were very affectionate in private, but they'd hardly hold hands when around others except the closest of family friends. I try to go along with it, but at every turn I seem to be getting another culture shock. It's not repulsive or unpleasant, just... very new for me." The liberation the Autobots had with each other was almost terrifying to Mirage, like he was standing at the edge of a dark pit, about to jump in and see how far it went, and what it held.

Prowl patiently listened to the other mech speak, folding his hands about in front of him to rest upon the table, his optics dimmed down. "It was... different, yes, and I'd have to say that I was 'converted' about half of the way. I'm far more respectful than any of the ruffians you'll find around here, but I'd imagine that while I don't notice it, I have my less than subpar moments. Unlike most of the mechs here, I tend to be slow into going in relationships," the black and white mech finished. "It's incredibly different, and very hard to adapt to."

Mirage nodded, smiling. "I suppose I'll figure out where my boundaries are the longer I stay here. It's difficult to imagine allowing someone close when I don't know them that well. And aside from Ratchet, I hardly know a thing about anyone else on this entire base."

"Yes, that's true," the tactician spoke. "With time you'll gain bonds with the other mechs, everyone feels like an outsider at first," his smooth tenor timbre spoke, and he passed another smile to the newest special ops mech. "Ahh, I'm terribly sorry, but it's about time for me to leave... Prime should be just getting up," Prowl said, and he stood, offering his hand to the mech to grasp. Always was the SIC busy, hardly had a moment to spare, and that included his non-existence social life. Prowl had a few lovers in his time with the Autobots, but his interfacing life usually came from the rare one-night stands he engaged in when he was pent up and needing release.

"It's fine," Mirage said, taking Prowl's hand and getting up. "I should probably wash up, anyway. Jazz is apparently having me take some self-defense lessons today. Ah, by the way, I heard a rumor... he doesn't really lock his agent's hands behind their backs to see how long it takes them to get out of their energy cuffs, right?"

"Jazz does have some less than conventional teaching methods, but I can't say I've heard that one." Prowl smiled, then drew his hand away after he finished shaking the mech's hand. Then went back to the dispenser to fill a new cube up, for Prime, and walked out of the commissary, giving a nod to his helm to the other mech. His doorwings were arched up in some sort of emotion as he left, greeting another mech as he did so.

Mirage watched after Prowl until he was out of the commissary, smiling a little. Finally turning away, he took his empty cube to the stack in a corner of the room, setting it with the other drained and dirty cubes. He was looking forward to washing up at least, he always enjoyed taking showers. Jazz's training... well, he'd just have to wait and see.

Bumblebee was with Jazz in the training room, the two mechs chatting away as they leaned up against the far wall. Mirage was in there as well, and every few moments Jazz would turn his visor and gaze upon the mech as he practiced forms, making sure that he was doing them correctly. If what Mirage was doing was not acceptable, he'd call out to him and help him through a correction, then blandly inform him that for each mistake he'd be working even longer and harder. Every mistake added up as another five repetitions of a form, usually punching and kicking, or other deft leg and pede movements. Bumblebee, who had gone through it all before, found a measure of satisfaction in watching another mech struggle, and would cup his hand to whisper something to the saboteur every few moments, a smile on his face. No doubt they were commenting on the noble's progress, or lack thereof. But, it couldn't be helped, Mirage was new, and Jazz knew that he would need a long time to become vaguely good at anything.

Turning, Jazz caught a miss in Mirage's form again, and clicked his vocalizer. "That's another five reps for that, babe!" he called out. He was probably getting more fun out of it than was possible.

Mirage only dignified Jazz with a sidelong look of annoyance before silently nodding. Anything else would probably just garner more amusement from the pair. He vented to calm himself, beginning his forms again. At this rate, he'd probably wrench a joint out of it's socket before he'd be done with this lesson. He was also sure that he'd be sore enough to never want to move again after today.

"May I remind you, Jazz, that I am not your 'babe'," Mirage said stiffly. He was far past being in the mood for nicknames and terms of endearment. Especially from a couple of mechs smiling so openly while he practiced.

"May I remind you Mirage, that I'ma superior officer, and if I wanna call you 'babe' or 'afthead' I will," Jazz replied, though he had laughed in amusement at the less than happy words from the noble, and Bumblebee joined him in his chuckling. Mirage was a new recruit, there was no way the pair would not take up the opportunity to get in a goad of amusement.

Mirage's optic twitched and he huffed in annoyance. He wisely kept his desired comments to himself. He could quickly turn the teasing into something less friendly if he didn't hold his temper from his wounded pride. As he punched and kicked through the air, he imagined a certain saboteur's head where his limbs went.

"Awwh, he's pouting," Jazz observed, then he and Bumblebee chortled in annoyance. "Mirage, you look kinda cute when you're all mad and huffy!" he called out to the other mech, which sent the yellow colored bot into another fit of giggles, where he leaned over to whisper something to Jazz. Then, before Mirage could reply, the silver colored mech added in, "Alright, two more reps of that form and you can be done, I need ya to still be able to walk tomorrow," he sniggered.

Mirage sighed in relief, the feeling palpable enough that he didn't bother being offended at Jazz's first comment. He continued working through the form, the movements a little smoother at the promise of an end in sight to this workout. When he finished, he retained his straight-backed posture, despite how worn-out he felt. He again saved any retorts or glares, not wanting to risk having a second session.

He turned to them, a well practiced mask of calm neutrality settled on his face. "Is there anything else expected of me today, Jazz?"

Jazz turned back to the mech, his lips pursed, as if quietly contemplating something. "No, just remember to stretch before ya recharge, and right after ya wake up, otherwise ya won't be able to move," he murmured, waving a dismissive hand as he chided another mech across the room on something. Bumblebee wandered off at his words, knowing that there would be no more entertainment to be had.

Mirage relaxed, smiling a little. "Alright, thank you for tip." He turned heel and left the training room, intending to find a place to settle and relax.

Inside the dim lighting of their room, Hound and Trailbreaker laid beside each other, relaxing together after their shifts. Trailbreaker had Hound pulled against him, gently holding him and running a hand along his side. He was smiling softly, occasionally pressing a kiss to Hound's helm or neck. They were both a tactile pair, liking to have somebody close and to touch for the sake of touching.

Hound had his helm buried in the hollow of his lover's neck, sometimes moving around to kiss his lips or jaw. Hound too had a hand affixed to his lover's hip, though he didn't move it in a stimulating fashion like the other mech was. "I don't know why I'm so depressed at times," the green mech murmured, drawing himself closer to comfort himself in the presence of his good friend and lover. "I mean, nothing with us, or the Autobots, but sometimes I feel like I'm missing out on the grand scheme of things," he confessed softly, nuzzling his helm into Trailbreaker's neck.

Trailbreaker's engine rumbled reassuringly for his old friend, curling an arm tighter around Hound. "Hm, maybe it's because you don't get to go out anymore. You always loved exploring the sights outside the cities." Hound had always had a thing for the natural habitats, seeing their planet's wildlife, and studying them. Unfortunately fueling that hobby wasn't possible now with the war.

"Perhaps," Hound said, shifting closer, his voice rumbling as he soothingly rubbed the top of his helm onto Trailkbreaker's chin. Then he sat up and leaned against the wall, his optics expressive as he sighed, drawing his legs up to his chassis so he could curl his arms around them. "I still feel like I'm missing out on something... maybe someone, I don't know," he easily admitted. He watched Trailbreaker carefully, rubbing his facial plates against the plates on his knees. "Ahh, I'm sorry, I don't mean to unload my problems on you."

"What are friends for if not to talk to?" Trailbreaker said soothingly as he tightened his hold on Hound a little. "Anyone in... particular that you had in mind? You know most of the base would be happy to spend a night with you." It wasn't Hound's looks that made him popular, although he was a handsome mech, it was his friendliness and approachability. Everyone was comfortable with Hound and it was next to impossible to dislike him. And he was a good lover to top it off. Trailbreaker himself felt extremely fortunate to have Hound as a best friend and a regular lover.

"Ahh, I don't know, some mech... it's nothing against you Trailbreaker, I guess it's just my fault, I'm not content with anything anymore... this war is going to suck the life out of me," he chuckled, and shifted further into the black mech's grip. Hound pressed his face down and drew a digit underneath his lover's chin, making him look up, where the green mech pressed his lips to those before him. "I'm not ... dissatisfied with you, or anything, I'm just... confused..." he murmured.

"Confused about what?" Trailbreaker asked gently, running his hand up and down his friend's side in a comforting manner. "I'll be okay with whatever you want to do, as long as we still have this." He appreciated, more than he could ever say, how Hound would always take his feelings into consideration, and always explained when someone had caught his optic that he wasn't going to stop seeing Trailbreaker. The thought of no longer having these moments with his dear friend and lover was something truly frightening to the defense tactician.

"Confused about plenty of things... I mean, 'Breaker, we've been together for a long time now, I wouldn't mind stepping up our relationship," Hound murmured, and he sighed, "But at the same time, I want to keep myself open to others, because we have plenty of time to search... I don't know, just don't take that in the wrong way," the tracker said carefully, reaching his arms up to clasp them around his lover's neck.

Trailbreaker nodded, burying his face in the crook of Hound's neck. "I'd like to become more serious, Hound, but not if you're still confused. I want absolute certainty." He kissed Hound's neck before nuzzling it affectionately. If Hound ever came to regret him, or what they had for moving too fast, it would break his spark. "We can wait, I'm not going anywhere."

"Alright, that's the least I can do for you," the mech murmured, and he pressed himself a little bit closer, rubbing his lips over one of Trailbreaker's audios. "You're such a good mech to me," he murmured, kicking his legs out so he could draw the other mech over onto his lap. Hound pressed his lips to other mech's softly, just gently brushing. "What would I do without your support?" he wondered, chuckling.

Trailbreaker chuckled, letting Hound draw him in. He carefully supported himself over Hound, not wanting to hurt the scout with his bigger weight. "Become hopelessly lost without my guidance, I imagine." He returned the kiss, a little firmer than Hound's. He ground their hips lightly together, teasing his lover.

A breathy groan left Hound, his optics flickering as pleasure flared through him from his panel. He leaned off to the side, touching Trailbreaker's collar ridge as he realized what his lover wanted. Hound breathed out a sharp breath and moved to his back, drawing his lover over him in the dominant position. Not that it mattered between them, they shared their pleasure. "You should just tell me what you want," the green mech chuckled, smiling as he leaned up to kiss his lover.

"Now where's the fun in that?" Trailbreaker murmured. He teased a hand over Hound's chassis, trailing along and circling a headlight with a finger. The hand kept sliding down, lingering over sensitive spots on Hound's frame, until it stopped at his interface panel, cupping it. He rubbed his open palm over the panel, smiling into his kiss with Hound.

"Mm, indeed," the smaller mech replied, and he sighed softly, shifting underneath his lover in an undulating fashion. Hound spread his legs, reaching up to fan his own digits over Trailbreaker's chassis, prodding into seams while he kissed the mech. After a few moments he let his panel slide open, revealing a moderately wet valve and his spike housing, his spike still nestled back within its recess. Hound dabbled his finger on the black mech's backstrut, rubbing with the pad of his digits. It really didn't take Trailbreaker long to get him in the mood.

Trailbreaker shuddered above Hound, offlining his optics for a moment. He pressed a single inside the valve, stroking inside to get it slicker. His own panel clicked open, spike emerging. He rubbed it against Hound's thigh, smiling down at the scout before kissing him. With great care, he pressed another finger inside, pushing them both deeper, scissoring them and stretching Hound's valve.

Hound gripped to Trailbreaker's chassis and shivered, a lazy pleasured look on his face, lips barely parted. "Oh, that feels so nice," he murmured, keeping himself still. He could feel more lubricant working down, wetting his valve further for Trailbreaker's spike. One hand drifted between them and he wrapped his digits around the shaft of his lover's spike, gently squeezing the hot metal. "Eager?" he teased.

Trailbreaker jerked in the grip, reflexively driving his fingers deeper inside Hound. "For you? Hard not to be." He nuzzled and kissed along Hound's face and helm. "You look so good like this, right before you're taken. Makes me wonder... what you're like for the others. Do you make the same sounds? The same expressions?" He twisted his fingers slowly, pushing them in and out.

"Hah, no, only for you Trailbreaker," Hound answered, grinding down on those digits while he loosened his grip from his lover's spike or risk hurting him. He groaned, the pleasure of those finger inside of him bringing up so many good images and feelings. "Ahhh, there's no one like you ... to me," he breathed, then whined, blue optics a dark cerulean. "Please, Trailbreaker," he murmured, finding the ache within his valve for something larger all too important. A hand reached around and he placed his digits on the mech's aft, lightly pushing on him. "I need you..."

Trailbreaker smiled affectionately down at Hound, slipping his fingers out. He positioned himself at Hound's entrance, slowly pushing in half way, then pulling out before pushing back in again. He lifted Hound's leg, hefting it higher to fully penetrate his lover. He groaned at the pressure on his spike. "Ah, Hound, you feel so amazing." He rocked his hips, moaning happily as the tight, slick walls slid along his spike. "So tight and wet for me."

Hound squirmed, finding the pressure of his lover inside of him bringing more than a little pleasure. Often times Hound liked being taken simply and roughly, perhaps even had a kink for being dominated when it was possible, but he enjoyed his spike just as much. He found that he fit well together with Trailbreaker - as it was easy to change positions, whether using spike or valve to pleasure each other. Of course they were compassionate towards each other, listening, speaking, unlike many of the other Autobots did. Often times Hound felt the rest of the faction was simply looking around for the greatest new lay. He didn't like that at all, and preferred a relationship that was more exclusive, yet open at the same time. It was often times a hard balance to reach.

Trailbreaker leaned down, kissing Hound as his hand slid up and down Hound's leg. He moved a little faster, his and Hound's frames sliding together with his thrusts. Their paint was probably scraping onto each other, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Neither minded a little swapped paint, especially with each other.

No, Hound didn't mind, and he thought that it was a trophy to wear his lover's color. A sign of good interfacing, surely. Hound shut his optics off and worked with Trailbreaker, shifting his form down when the mech pulled out, and arching up for maximum penetrate on the upward thrust. His vents started up and he released a moan, usually always very quiet on the berth, and felt his valve reflexively clench around that spike. Trailbreaker was perfect for his valve as well. Big, but not big enough to cause him pain, and just enough to stretch and touch all of him, even when he was very aroused.

Trailbreaker vented heavily, as Hound started to move with him. His pace picked up, putting more force behind his thrusts, feeling the hot, wet slide of his spike inside Hound's valve. "Hound..." he moaned, burying his face in Hound's neck, nipping at the cabling, engine revving and shaking through both of them.

"Trailbreaker," Hound murmured back, groaning, and he shifted under his lover, changing the angle of penetration to rub more along the far wall of his valve, making him gasp. With optics bright, he drew his arms up and encircled his lover's shoulders, quite literally holding on for the ride, plastering the mech's jaw with hot kisses. "Oh yes, oh yes," he moaned, and tried to think about something else, tried to deny his overload so that it would last longer when it came.

Trailbreaker smiled proudly at the sounds his lover made. He reached down and held onto Hound's aft with both hands, hiking him up, pulling his legs around his waist. He shifted so that he was kneeling on the berth while bending higher over Hound, giving him a deeper, more powerful thrust.

Hound reeled at the new position, gripping tightly to Trailbreaker's shoulders as he was impaled again and again on his spike. His weight was pressing down and he had no choice to ride the mech's thrusts however he wanted them. The green mech cried out, his lover's name no less, valve rapidly pulling tight around Trailbreaker's spike and he mewled, absolutely loving the feel of it all. Climax hit hard and he gazed blankly at the ceiling, short breaths spilling from his mouth while his optics flickered wildly.

Trailbreaker groaned quietly, shuddering as Hound's valve constricted on his spike, urging him into overload with a few more shallow thrusts. He gently set Hound down as he pulled out, watching and appreciating for a moment as lubricant and transfluid leaked out of his lover's valve. His spike retracted and his plating closed as he settled back beside Hound, pulling him back against him, kissing him softly.

Hound didn't close his plating, he wanted to wash the fluid out before he bedded down for the night. He too kissed the mech back, murmuring soft words for such a nice overload. It had been precisely what he was in the mood for, gentle and compassionate loving. Normally they were more adventurous, but of course Hound hadn't been in the mood for anything too extreme. "Thank you," he murmured, drawing a hand up to cup his lover's cheek.

Trailbreaker kissed him, running a gentle hand up and down his arm. He loved these quiet moments after an overload almost more than he did their interfaces. It was nice just being able to enjoy each other's presence. "Anything for you, Hound."


	5. Sweet Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hound and Mirage go on patrol, only to encounter Decepticons. Later, back on base, they arrive back to a most frivolous party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Sweet Comfort  
> Authors: vectorsigma3441 as Hound and Ratchet. diamondunicorn as Mirage and Bluestreak.  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Characters/Pairings: Ratchet/Mirage, Optimus Prime/Sideswipe/Sunstreaker, Hound with mentions of Hound/Trailbreaker, Bluestreak  
> Summary: Hound and Mirage go on patrol, only to encounter Decepticons. Later, back on base, they arrive back to a most frivolous party  
> Series: G1  
> Warnings: Orgy, fingering, toys, slash, explicit sex

Mirage's gaze kept slowly scanning the sparse scenery of the patrol route he and Hound were on. It was a mostly flat and deserted landscape. It made him nervous to be in such open space and he had to resist the urge to use his electro disruptor and go invisible. Having Hound was a bit of a comfort, though. The scout was kind and friendly, and good at scanning for Decepticons, so Mirage was in good hands at least.

Every few moments Hound would take his attention off of his surroundings and gaze at the green mech following him. Not that Mirage's paint was green, but that was what they titled all new mechs during their first stretch in the Autobots. Green meant inexperience and a general lack of knowledge for how such things worked. But, everyone was green and some point or another, even though Hound couldn't remember when he had been. As soon as he was old enough he had been shipped off to the academy of Iacon, where he had specialized in tracking and searching along with his friend Trailbreaker. It rather surprised him how long he and Trailbreaker had known each other, but it had been quite a long time before they had decided to be intimate.

"You alright Mirage?" the tracker asked again, turning a kindly smile onto the mech near him. A large rifle was hoisted up in his hands, and Mirage had one too, though his was smaller.

Mirage returned the smile, putting on an air of confidence. "I'm fine, thank you. I'm just a little nervous, I suppose. I haven't been this far from the base since I got here." He scanned the empty area again, even though Hound would probably sense approaching Decepticons long before him. "How often do you find Decepticons in this area?" He'd only ever seen Decepticons face-to-face once, when they were destroying the Towers. It wasn't something he liked to reflect on. He'd surely see more of them when his training was complete, and he hoped he had the confidence by then to face them.

"Ahh, I see," Hound murmured, and he smiled, his blue gaze passing to Mirage's golden one. "Deceps don't often wander this area, it's too open, we'd see seekers coming from a long ways off, now if we were in city ruins, I'd be more concerned," he confessed, smiling still, and drew that rifle up to rest on his shoulder. The walk was boring and rather lonely, but he was glad Mirage was with him. Since Hound was in field division, he always got sent out for a few days at a time and spent his nights under the open stars. The noblemech with him would as well. He wasn't sure how he'd do with it all, but Hound was quite willing to comfort the smaller mech. Sometimes being thrust into new situations was incredibly hard. After Hound, Mirage would go on patrol with a different mech until Jazz deemed him 'yellow', which was a grade higher than green. Then, after yellow, he would be declared 'blue' and would be a full fledged member of the Autobots.

Mirage nodded in understanding, relaxing a little. "I have to admit, that is good to know. I'm not sure how well I'd do against Decepticons right now, even with this," he lifted the slender and light rifle he carried. Despite his easy lifestyle as a Towers noble, Mirage still knew how to handle a gun. It was a common past time for nobles to go out on hunts. His family had even been well known for raising some of the finest turbo hounds used for hunts. If he shuttered his optics, he could almost pretend he was out wandering the hunting grounds again with his friends, one of his own hounds at his side, hunting for turbo foxes.

Hound kept on walking, still checking on Mirage every few moments to make sure he was paying attention. "Hey," he said somewhat loudly, and reached out to 'thwack' his hand on the noble's shoulder. "Just because I said it's not likely doesn't mean it won't happen," Hound said, frowning. "You gotta stay alert at all times." It wasn't his wish to scare the mech senseless, but it was the truth. The Decepticons usually came when one least expected it.

Mirage almost cringed, shaken from his thoughts. "Sorry," he murmured, scanning the area again, almost as though to make up for his lapse in concentration. He needed to keep his thoughts in the present now, he had a job to do. And thinking about the past only seemed to make his life harder to bear.

"It's alright, just try not to do it again," the green mech spoke, and silence seemed to reign as they continued on walking. Vehicle form would've been faster, but it made it easier for enemies to sneak up and do damage, so Hound, and all of the other Autobots, had to use bipedal form instead. The landscape slowly turned from flat to more hilly, places where mechs could hide. But it was no problem, Hound and Mirage had patrol in the ruins of a neighboring city, and that would be the most dangerous zone.

"How far would you say we are from base?" Mirage asked absently. Hound had the superior mapping system and would have an easier time judging their position, Mirage could only really tell their position by his chrono meter on how long they'd been out. He almost didn't want to think how far they were from help.

"Ahh, we're a ways out now," Hound chuckled, turning his gaze back to the mech next to him. The landscape was steadily becoming more structured, the ruins of buildings were starting to become less broken, and some were standing, and not all together that broken. Hound's gaze flicked back and he noticed that both he and Mirage were leaving footprints in the ashy soil on Cybertron's surface. He cradled his gun in his arm, quite ready to bring it up to bear against any enemy. In the light, the sun looked far off and gray, with only a vivid spiral of white in the middle.

Mirage couldn't help letting his gaze trail up to the top of the buildings, reminiscing on his old home. These structures were nothing compared to the Towers. "I remember there being this skyscraper in the Towers, called the Imperial Point. It was the tallest building in the Towers, one of the tallest on Cybertron. It was a popular attraction, and a masterpiece in construction. I can't recall the paint used on it, but depending on the position of the sun, it would change color, well shades actually. It was this dark blue that would usually take on a reddish or purple hue at different times of the day. It was... a beautiful sight."

It was... almost irritating, listening to the mech continue on about his life in the towers. It wasn't to say Hound was annoyed with Mirage in particular, but it was clear he hadn't thought about the feelings of others... Turning his helm, he gave a little smile as the mech finished speaking. "I was born in the slum sector of Altihex. Since I was old enough I worked in a cargo bay, then once I was of age again, I was shipped off to a military academy," he spoke simply, feeling more than a little bit of animosity towards one who had been born into wealth. Hound had always worked... for everything... and had had more than his fair share of challenges along the way. That included the small thing called a murder trial... one of the main reasons he was in the Autobots.

Mirage's optics dimmed, and he looked away. "I'm sorry." Anything else would have been condescending, and he didn't want to offend Hound further. He couldn't comprehend enduring that kind of difficulty for his entire life. Aside from his family's expectations for him to do well in his studies, and behave properly and politely, he'd never had anything asked of him and was handed whatever he desired. He hadn't thought how, perhaps justifiably, bitter this might make the other Autobots.

"It's fine, it's something I try not to think about that often..." Hound said in return, and he flashed a smile upon his partner, and raised his fist in the air, punching Mirage's shoulder lightly in a display of friendly brotherhood. Hound then turned away, optics bright, and took the lead again, as they had somehow fallen to walking side by side. "It's different for you here, I'm sure. I was always used to the rather unrefined and open natures of the Autobots... But, I suppose, wherever you gather a bunch of mechs together and confine them within the same space, they're bound to be a bunch of horny mongers. It's been worse lately because everyone has been so bored... no fighting means lots of interfacing to burn off extra energy. Most here are born and bred fighters..."

Mirage relaxed again, smiling back at Hound. "I suppose there are worse ways to burn off excess energy. It's a culture shock certainly. The openness you all share is so different to how... pedantic the Towers were. My age group was more open about interface, but not nearly on the same level as with the Autobots."

A soft chuckle left Hound, his optics flashing down to gaze at his partner. Letting his optics rove over the other mech's pleasant form, a husky sound of agreement left him. "Ooh, darling, you haven't seen anything yet... Just wait till Prime gets in one of his moods... It's a Primus forsaken orgy... everyone interfacing with everyone... lot of drunk mechs, a loooot of pleasure," he drawled.

"W-what?" Mirage was so thrown off by the very thought, he couldn't put his vocalizer's pitch lower than a squeak. His face flushed in embarrassment, unable to suppress a vague mental image of the entire Autobot base in a writhing mass of limbs and moans. "That- really? I-I can't-" he couldn't form the words, distracted by his runaway imagination.

Hound hummed, clasping his hand onto Mirage's shoulder. "It's too bad you were never in the academy. That's when I became accustomed to it. The mechs would organize a party and it would turn into interfacing... Sometimes we'd invite one of the teachers just to have a more experienced mech to be with... Lots of fun. But don't get any false impressions. We play hard, but we work harder... Spare time is spent in search of the most pleasurable pursuits possible..." he voiced quietly.

Mirage's systems flushed a little hotter, ducking his helm. His optics darted uncertainly back at Hound before looking away again, unable to ignore the scout's nearness. "I-I'm... I'm not sure I'll ever get used to any of this. You don't know how new everything really is for me."

"Ahh, you will," Hound murmured, noting how uneasy the mech was. So, being the graceful scout that he was, Hound decided to change the subject. "It's quiet," he noted as he took a step over a fallen statue, one that depicted one of the old Primes. "I'm guessing there are a few Decepticons around here," he casually noted, taking a path closer to the fronts of some buildings, using them for protection while he gazed at the rooftops across the rubble strewn courtyard.

Mirage's optics widened, and he had to suppress the alarm he felt at Hound's statement. He copied his partner, keeping step behind him. He scanned from the ground up, optics slowly reaching the rooftops. "Is there a way to be certain?" Aside from the obvious of being shot at.

"Not really, wait for one of them to appear, I suppose. But if they're upwind I should be able to scent them," Hound murmured, face thrust far out into the air as he walked cautiously along, hands petting protectively over his gun. "Keep quiet," he whispered, stating the obvious, but needing to do it anyways. There was a possibility for death after all, and reminding a mech of what he already knew for extra safety was more than worth it.

Mirage nodded, optics darting around them. He pulled his rifle close, ready to use it if necessary. Even as he surveyed the empty city, it was quiet and undisturbed. As he knew all too well, though, that meant nothing. Just because you couldn't see something, didn't mean it wasn't there.

Hound walked with his chassis thrust out into the cool night, face still forward as he tried to scent the air. He was a talented mech to say the least, and he fitted his job title perfectly. Then, ahead, there were lights, and Hound's hand flicked out to grasp Mirage's shoulder, and he roughly dragged the mech to his side, his olfactory senses getting a hold of the smell a moment later. Oil, metal, and mechblood, the scent of unwashed frames covered with ashy residue and burnt blackness from afterburners. Seekers, probably scouts. Just as Hound was a scout, and Mirage for this little jaunt. There were several of them, and Hound's optics flicked to a vacated building to the right, and contemplated what to do. Normally he and another mech would tag team and go into opposite spots for sniping, but Mirage, he knew, didn't have that kind of experience. So he reported his findings over the comm, servos still gripping tightly to Mirage's shoulder, and then ducked inside a half collasped building. "Quiet," he whispered, hands reaching into his subspace to pull out a small and narrowed box.

Mirage's grip on his rifle tightened, fear gripping his spark. He shifted closer to Hound, small tremors of tension starting to afflict his frame. Although now an Autobot, his training only put him just a step above a civilian with a gun. He'd never fought before, and hoped today wasn't the day he would start. Still, he kept his composure, fighting down the base programming to act without thought. He just had to follow Hound's instructions and they'd be alright. The scout had been through these sort of situations before and knew how to handle them. Mirage's optics were drawn to Hound, watching and listening to everything he did, taking some reassurance in the more experienced mech's composed demeanor.

Flicking his hands down, he opened the small case and drew several pieces out, quickly attaching them to his rifle. A scope, longer stock and barrel - an interchangeable sniper rifle. Standing, he drew himself closer to a window and rested the gun on top of the ledge, leaning against the wall for support. He watched, carefully at that, but didn't know if he would be able to get any shots in. Probably not, he thought to himself... Sometimes it was better to just play it quiet and let no one know you were in the area. Far better chance for survival that way.

Mirage watched, feeling useless. Although he was going through sniper training, he still wasn't qualified and didn't have the gear for it like Hound. He was so nervous, he didn't know if that was a bad thing or not, uncertain he'd be able to keep calm if he were to try shooting a Decepticon. The very thought left his fuel tanks churning in revulsion. He hated what they'd done, to him, his home, and many others, but he'd been raised a pacifist his entire life. Those principles couldn't be erased easily.

He leaned close, keeping his voice as low as he could without being inaudible to Hound. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No," Hound whispered back, almost feverishly, and he turned to the side, angling his body to better look outside the window from both sides. A loud boom resounded, shaking the structure of the building, and a few pieces of loose metal and ash filtered down from the ceiling. With seekers around, it was safest to be on a ground floor, even though he wanted to go higher up. Then light flickered up, and a frown fell across his face. It appeared the mechs were raiding each and every building and smelled like more than he had anticipated. Not that he could see them, but if the noises and fresh scents were anything to go by... In all honesty, Hound would rather be on the upper floors of a building if it collapsed, not the lower. "Alright, follow me," he whispered to Mirage, holding a digit to his lips, then turned and slung the gun carefully over his shoulder. Moving his elbow so the gun wouldn't jar loose, he started up the rickety staircase, having no choice but to go on his hands and knees to avoid kicking up debris.

Mirage followed Hound's lead, rifle slung behind him as he copied the scout's ascent. Each tremulous shake of the structure from the seekers caused him to flinch. He wanted to hunch down and hide, to go invisible and just wait for it to all be over. He kept his focus on Hound instead, and pushed away the fearful thoughts swirling inside his CPU. What would happen if the building came down on them, what if the Decepticons discovered them, what if they killed them, what if they didn't?

They went up the staircase slowly, and thankfully it didn't give out. That would have been horrible if it would have, because surely the seekers would notice a portion of a building collapsing that they hadn't even touched... All in all, it was a tricky business. Once they both had reached the top Hound drew his hand out and took Mirage's in his, pulling the mech along. Another explosion rang out and Hound gripped tightly to Mirage as a chunk of the ceiling gave way and crashed to the floor. Moving, Hound headed towards the wall, finding a low window with the glass still in it so he could keep guard. Optics were dimmed, low, because even two pinpricks of light in the night could give away their position. "It's going to be a long night," he mused quietly as brilliant orange flames flared up, illuminating his face.

Mirage couldn't hold back the expression of utter misery at Hound's grim words. He pressed back against the wall, sitting down and drawing his knees up while resting his elbows on them. His gaze drifted down to the floor, mouth drawn tight as he suppressed his reaction to curl up and cringe at the sound of destruction outside and the shakes of their own hideout.

Tense moments passed, but Hound stayed vigil, and soon those moments passed into minutes, and minutes into hours. The noises were still there, but farther off, and it was a long time before the tracker had moved from his position on his knees. With a groan he uncurled, incredibly sore, and reached his arms to move around Mirage's shoulders, nuzzling his face into the top of his helm. He drew his face down and pressed a warm kiss to Mirage's lips. "Time to head back," he murmured quietly.

Mirage was drawn from his half-conscious state by Hound's kind touch. He looked up, optics flickering tiredly from the long, tense night. "Oh, okay," he said softly. He looked outside the window, seeing the beginnings of light touching the sky. It was a relief to no longer hear jeering seekers as they caused wanton destruction.

By the time he and Hound reached base, Mirage was starting to feel better. He was looking forward to getting some energon, washing up, and then unwinding in his quarters. He could use some relaxation after the eventful patrol he'd experienced. Seeing the bouncing, eager figure of Bluestreak at the base entrance, he got the feeling his plans were going to be put on hold.

"Oh good, you're both here. Blaster said you were coming back from patrol. You guys're just in time, Prime's in one of his moods and the commissary is set up and everyone's there already, and they're probably starting without us, but we shouldn't miss much, it can go on for a while, you know?" Bluestreak babbled happily as he took Hound and Mirage's arms, leading them off towards the commissary.

"Um, pardon me, but what's happening?" Mirage asked, trying to keep up with Bluestreak's quick steps and even quicker talking. Then his memories of patrol caught up, and Hound's talk of Optimus Prime getting into his 'moods'. Mirage's optics widened and he looked to Hound. "Wait, those moods? Like what you told me before?"

"Yes, it appears so," Hound said in reply, optics bright. He hadn't been planning on doing much interfacing either. Although he was relatively clean, he was rather tired… But he allowed the smaller and chipper young mech to lead him along the empty corridors, and he passed Mirage a look over the mech's shoulder. Noises were coming louder, joyful and happy, along with darker lights. It was always deep, dark, and sensual, never anything more or less. Of course not all mechs could attend, as some had to stay on duty, but there were a few, surely. Bluestreak turned the corner to the commissary and let go of their arms, disappearing into the mass of mechs. Music thrummed, deep and seductive, distinctly Cybertronian, and there were mechs pressed against each other, dancing, rubbing, touching, kissing... And if Hound got up on the tips of his pedes, he could see Optimus Prime sitting in his throne-like chair, being worshipped by his pair of twins... All of it was enchanting. "I-I suppose I should find Trailbreaker," Hound murmured, optics bright, and he disappeared into the crowd, kissing and touching and feeling his way through the squirming and gyrating masses. Some mechs were already interfacing, up against the walls or on chairs, some doing self service, others just enjoying watching.

Mirage watched after him with wide optics, before slowly taking in the rest of the crowd. He just stood and stared, transfixed by the sight of so many mechs all writhing and moaning and dancing and oh Primus. Mirage slowly stumbled to a chair, still watching, too fascinated to leave, too scared to join.

More and more mechs were joining up, others still dancing. He could see couples, and threesomes and a couple of groups with even more mechs together. His gaze drifted to Optimus Prime sitting on the largest chair in the room, watching everything. His mask was off to kiss and pet the twins as the yellow and red brothers writhed happily against him. And that's what everyone seemed to be; happy as they exchanged pleasure with each other. Mirage sat and watched anxiously, legs crossed because of the heat building behind his interface panel.

Ratchet hadn't planned on joining in, and only wanted to stop by to see what was happening. But as he peered inside and let his optics flick around, he noticed Mirage sitting by himself, looking rather nervous and equally excited about the whole thing. Smiling, he stepped inside, where he was greeted instantly by several mechs, but he fended them off with polite words and headed to where Mirage was seated and took a spot near him, watching the crowd. "They really get going when Prime wants to interface," he murmured, optics flicking to the Autobot Leader, where he noted that Sunstreaker was vigorously deep-throating his spike. It made Ratchet's optics flare in desire, though he made no moves. He was old, and had shared and received more than enough pleasure to control himself.

"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, or the entire Autobot base?" Mirage asked with a small smile, sidling closer to Ratchet. He relaxed a little in the medic's presence, finding reassurance in the familiar face. His optics followed Sideswipe, who was perched precariously on the arm of Optimus' chair. His legs were pulled up and spread, his hands rubbing up and down the broad red chassis. Optimus had two fingers pressed inside the red warrior's valve, sliding easily back and forth in it. His other hand was petting Sunstreaker's helm, encouraging and guiding the yellow twin's bobbing movements. Mirage shifted in his seat, systems heating up with the sights and sounds around him. He leaned against Ratchet's side, practically mesmerized by it all.

Ratchet drew his hands up to rest upon Mirage's shoulders, pulling the mech into his lap so he could nuzzle his face into his throat tubing. "They are hot aren't they? Sunstreaker doesn't get down on his knees for anyone except Prime... And you'll know when Optimus climaxes... most of the couples pause to watch... He's quite beautiful in the throes of pleasure," the medic murmured, drawing a hand up and down Mirage's chassis. He shifted and pulled the smaller mech more onto his lap so he could kiss the mech's throat, nipping over neck tubing while his other hand traced metal seams over the mech's stomach plating, and then went down to touch Mirage's hot panel. "You're wet?" the medic mused softly.

Mirage nodded, fidgeting in Ratchet's lap as he leaned into the medic's touch. All around them were interfacing mechs. Just a few chairs away, was a couple, one riding the other's spike, head thrown back, moaning in pleasure. Near Optimus and the twins were Jazz, Tracks, and a third mech Mirage didn't recognize, Tracks thrusting his spike into the mech under him as Jazz took him from behind. Across the room Bluestreak was being held against a wall and 'faced by a mech similar in model to him. On the floor beside them was Hound and Trailbreaker, sucking each other's spikes and fingering one another's valves. "It's very hard not to be while in this room," Mirage admitted.

"It is?" Ratchet purred, parting his lips so he could nibble his denta over a headfin. A glossa trailed right thereafter and he chuckled lowly, finding that he was already quite used to the mech's presence. They had interfaced several times after all, and Ratchet had taken his virginity... Another little personal conquest in his opinion. "Open up," he murmured, one hand caressing upon the mech's panel while the other kneaded his hips. "Let me finger you into overload... Mmm, I might even have a toy in my subspace for you..." Ratchet spoke, lowly at that, trying to entice Mirage into arousal, or more arousal.

A shiver ran down Mirage's backstrut, unable to resist the allure of an overload from Ratchet. He was very good at them, after all. The noble's panel clicked open, and he turned to press his face against Ratchet's neck, shy about bearing himself in a room with so many other mechs. He took the opportunity to kiss along Ratchet's neck and under his jaw.

Breathing out hot air, Ratchet dimmed his blue optics and moved his helm to the side so Mirage could kiss more of him, and he flicked his hands over warm metal until he was down to Mirage's interface. He cupped a hand over a warm and leaking valve, tickling with the ends of his fingers, and then plunged a digit inside, aggressively fingering him. "Look at Sideswipe," Ratchet murmured, and it was clear he was overloading, because lubricant was flowing out his valve onto Prime's finger, and also onto the Autobot leader's lap. Then the CMO stuck another finger inside, curling them to drag against the walls of Mirage's valve for more pleasure. "Hot... I've had both of them together before," he mused.

Mirage moaned, back arching attractively as Ratchet's fingers moved inside him. He focused his gaze on Optimus and his twin lovers. Despite his recent overload, Sideswipe was draping himself over the Prime, kissing and petting him while giving their leader an alluring smile that held a promise of more. Unconsciously, Mirage's legs spread wider for Ratchet as he watched, hips jerking with the medic's fingering.

Ratchet moved his legs, pressing his knees in between Mirage's own, and he forced the young mech to part his legs all of the way, exposing himself to the rest of the room. Then, he removed his fingers, reaching his hand back to his right hip where his subspace pocket was, and pulled out something from it, hiding it along his palm and arm. Drawing his other hand, he hid it from view still from Mirage, even as he prodded it at the mech's valve, slowly sliding the dildo inside. It was solid with little bumps and spirals on it, perfect for pleasuring a mech's valve. Gently he thrust the object, working it slowly while he murmured comforting things in the noblemech's audio.

Mirage whimpered, shutting his optics. He bucked into the toy sliding inside him, back pressing and grinding into Ratchet's front. His smooth lips parted and he let out small gasps and cries of pleasure with each slow pass of the toy inside him. "Ah, Ratchet," the noble panted, vocalizer lightly laced with static from his arousal.

"Hmm?" Ratchet murmured back, lazily thrusting while he watched the mechs around them. Surely, later, when Ironhide was off shift, the medic would have to go have some fun with the mech. It was always gratifying to force the mech to bend over and take it like a femme... Drawing himself away from such thoughts, he increased the motions with his hand, turning his wrist so he could twist the toy as he thrust. "You look lovely you know, so young and innocent..."

Mirage squirmed in Ratchet's lap, reaching a hand out for Ratchet's, the one not occupied with using a toy on the noble. He grasped it, squeezing gently with each twist and thrust of the toy inside him. He arched his helm back, letting it rest on Ratchet's shoulders and baring his neck. He whined with the increased pace, valve sensors lighting up with pleasure.

Letting his optics open, Mirage caught several appreciative gazes on them. With an embarrassed squeak, he shuttered his optics again, keeping his concentration on Ratchet and the toy sliding inside him instead.

"There you go," Ratchet cooed. "They're jealous... they want to thrust their spikes in your valve, to see these beautiful expressions on your face... make you moan and writhe and leak warm lubricant for them..." he whispered, starting to move his own frame so the toy could penetrate Mirage further and from a different angle. "They want to make you clench your valve around them... to climax..." the CMO continued on, brushing his lips along the mech's helm.

Mirage's vents picked up, trying to cool his overheating frame. It was useless with Ratchet's provocative words and the toy that kept pushing Mirage closer to the edge of overload. "P-please, Ratchet, faster. I'm getting so close," Mirage whimpered, tense and shaking in the medic's arms. He tilted his hips, giving Ratchet better access with the toy and unknowingly giving the rest of the room a better sight of his valve as Ratchet worked him.

The mech complied, working his wrist and arms faster, thrusting the piece harder into the noblemech's valve. "Yes, yes, I know," he murmured breathlessly, hands sliding on the handle because of the lubricant that was leaking out of Mirage's valve. "Just let go, ignore all of these other mechs... let yourself have a good and hard overload..."

And Mirage did. Warnings flashed through his CPU, vision turning to static as he writhed in Ratchet's arms. He cried loud enough for the entire room to hear, lubricant spilling onto the toy and Ratchet's hand. He fell back limp against Ratchet's chassis, engine purring softly in contentment.

Ratchet carefully withdrew the toy, giving a few more gentle thrusts, and brought his hand up, dripping with fat beads of lubricant, and flicked his glossa out to clean them off, though the wet toy had disappeared back into his subspace. "You're a lovely little catch," he purred back, lapping up the milky clear fluid, smirking at any other mech that happened to look their way. "You know," he whispered, "I do offer interfacing sutra classes..." the medic murmured.

Despite having just been brought off in a room full of mechs, some having watched it with keen interest while others had focused on their own interfacing, Mirage still felt his face heat with embarrassment. "I'm not sure I'm ready for that, yet," the young mech mumbled. Although he wasn't surprised that Ratchet would. The mech had a great passion for interfacing, and seemed eager to teach Mirage everything about it. He glanced back at Ratchet, giving him a sweetly charming smile. 

"But I wouldn't mind if you ever want to give me pointers in private."


	6. Sweet Shots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hound can't resist the sight of Mirage, and while both are drunk and inhibitions are lowered, he takes the mech up to a private room to enjoy a pleasurable night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Sweet Shots  
> Authors: vectorsigma3441 as Hound, diamondunicorn as Mirage  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Characters/Pairings: Hound/Mirage  
> Summary: Hound can't resist the sight of Mirage, and while both are drunk and inhibitions are lowered, he takes the mech up to a private room to enjoy a pleasurable night together.  
> Series: G1  
> Warnings: Toys, explicit sexual content, slash, sticky

The music was thumping, hot, and sensual, and if it wasn't for the attractive mech sitting across from him, Hound was quite sure he'd already be mingling in the crowd of gyrating and thrusting mechs in the center point of the bar. The smell of interfacing was ripe in the air, intoxicating in its sweet and tangy odor. Hound was able to smell it even better with his sensitive olfactory senses, and if anything, he believed it set him off even more. Who could resist such allure, he wondered to himself. Glancing across the short, and rather cozy table, he leaned his elbow up on it and chuckled, smiling, and rest his chin in his palm, playing with his drink with the other. "Mirage," he drawled, fanning his sweet breath over to the other mech. Not that it would smell any different from the noble's own. "I'm pretty sure I'm really drunk," he laughed, looking hazy and so very relaxed.

Mirage gave his friend a crooked smile, head tilting to the side, swaying in his seat. He took a silent, deep intake, almost tasting the cheap high-grade on Hound's breath. He cupped a hand beside his mouth, as though to whisper, although when he spoke, it was barely lower than his normal pitch. "You know what? I think I am too." He leaned back in his chair, taking a long drink from his cube. At the beginning of the night, he'd thought the energon was nothing compared to Towers brew. Too strong and no hint of a flavor other than the over sweetness. After Hound's coaxing, and downing two cubes, leaving his limbs feeling light and his processors fuzzy, he'd come to the conclusion that this lower class brew was pretty good in it's own right.

Hound purred, leaning forward across the table, but he backed off again, feeling rather lightheaded and peaceful. For several minutes neither spoke a word, but as Hound looked across the dance floor, he felt lust flare up in his circuits again, making his interfacing components tingle. "Yeah... me too," he lightly breathed back in reply. Unconsciously he inched closer to the lither mech near him, as it was circular seating, and he didn't stop until his hips were pressed against the noble's. Hound slung a companionable arm around his friend's shoulder, fingers lax as they rested from the spot in which they were hanging. "We should probably head back before one of us gets too drunk," he murmured, and giggled softly at the thought.

Mirage nodded with a lazy smile, only half listening. His systems buzzed with the excess energy going through him, warming him up significantly. "Mm, guess so." He laughed, slumping against Hound. "Might be there already though. 'M such a lightweight." He lazily swung his hand holding his drink, energon sloshing the sides of it's container, some splashing onto Hound's hand. Mirage frowned at the stained hand for a moment, before twisting and pulling it closer to his face. His glossa darted out and licked up the energon before settling it back around his shoulder. "Sorry about that," he said to Hound with an apologetic smile.

Arousal flared through him, fast and strong, and his dark blue optics looked once down to the dance floor, and then to the stage before he made up his mind. Smiling broadly, lecherously, he licked his lips and pushed his frame closer to the noble's, openly flirting with him. A hand went to rest on the mech's thigh while the other was on his shoulder. Mostly, it was the high grade in him doing it, but he knew he held desire for Mirage before all of this had happened. It was one of the reasons he had asked the mech to join him in this place. But, the drinking had just gotten slightly out of hand. "Tha'sss alright," he murmured, and hesitantly moved his face up, pressing a kiss against the noble's lips.

Mirage was still for a moment, tasting the sweetened energon on his friend's lips, and smelling something almost musky in Hound's scent. He finally returned the kiss, one hand reached up and cupped Hound's cheek while he leaned into the other's touch. The drinks had left him overcharged with too much energy to burn, and Hound was an attractive outlet.

Mirage's lips, for malleable metal were surprisingly soft, and of course smaller than his own. Supple and petulant... it was no wonder, he was noble-sparked and raised. Hound parted his own lips and flicked his glossa out, touching the mech's top lip, then broke off to nuzzle their faces together. "I suppose I should have aaasked ya if ya were seein' someone," he murmured out, his own sweet breath fanning over over Mirage's face. A hand drew up and he touched it over the one on his cheek, squeezing gently, then threaded their digits together.

"Don't worry," Mirage said with a small shake of his head, leaning his forehead against Hound's. "'M not in anything serious." If anything, Ratchet would probably encourage him about seeing more mechs.

Hound smiled at those words and pressed another kiss to Mirage's lips, then lowered his face so he was kissing his jaw line, and then his neck. "Alright," he purred, voice husky while he dragged his lip components across those warms tubes. The green tracker was practically crawling in Mirage's lap to straddle him. "Let's go get a room, have some fun, huh?" he murmured, hands moving up to cup the back of the mech's helm. It was hard ignoring the bright flashing lights in his optics and the noise in his audios, and he wished to be somewhere more quiet.

Mirage nodded eagerly, smiling. "Yes," he said, wiggling away from Hound to stand up. He helped Hound up as well, the pair heading toward the bar to purchase one of the club's upstairs rooms.

The room's were pretty sparse, containing only a berth. Then again, that's all that was ever needed for the club's customers. "Fancy," Mirage joked, giggling a little.

"Mmhm," Hound murmured, and he walked over to a chest, one with many drawers, and purred his delight when he pulled it open. So many toys greeted his optics. Spike rings, valve beads, handcuffs, all sorts of lovely things. His upper lip curled into a grin and he stood up, then swooped over to his lovely little catch to kiss him on the lips. "Mm, you're a lovely mech aren't you?" Hound whispered, and reached for Mirage's aft, easily lifting the mech to straddle his waist.

Mirage almost let out a startled yelp as he was lifted off the floor. He wrapped his legs around Hound's waist to help Hound support his weight. Adjusting in the grip, he returned Hound's kiss while wrapping his arms around Hound's shoulders. "Flatterer," he murmured, nuzzling along Hound's face.

"I know," Hound replied in an impish voice, hands roving over the mech's aft. Usually he wouldn't do something as brash as this, as forward, but the mech was just so beautiful, and he was drunk enough. So, he walked over and pressed the noble's back into the wall, kissing at his mouth in a very open and leisurely way. "I'm curious, have you ever been dominant before? Either been on top or used your spike?" the dark green mech murmured, blissfully unaware of anything else except the mech before him.

"No, never have," Mirage replied, hands idly sliding along Hound's shoulders, gently teasing the plating and occasionally dipping between the seams. "I rather like..." his faceplate grew a little hot at the admission, "being submissive and under another mech's power." He couldn't help ducking his head a little, kissing along the underside of Hound's jaw and his neck.

"Mm, is that right... little Mirage loves to be told what to do and how to do it...?" he said, moving his neck over so he could let the small lips kiss at him. He turned away from the wall and went to the berth to set Mirage down upon it so his aft rested on the edge. Then, slowly he backed away, moving until there was an arms length of room between them. "Why don't you... touch yourself... I wouldn't mind seeing that," the tracker spoke, lust visible within his optics. "I want to see you overload yourself to my words and actions... I'm sure there's a pleasure baton in here," he murmured, flicking his optics to that small chest.

"Pleasure baton?" Mirage couldn't help asking. He'd never heard of such a toy. He slowly massaged the inside of his thighs, legs already quivering from his own touch. "What... what do they do?" He spread his legs further for Hound's hungry optics, rubbing in small circles closer and closer to his own interface panel.

"They release electrical impulses that are translated by our bodies into pleasure. There are many different settings, so the pleasure can vary," he spoke, then drew himself up on all fours and crawled over to the chest. Hound pulled open one drawer, then another, and he made a noise of triumph as he found the object. It was long and slender and he crawled back to Mirage with it, and he fitted himself between the mech's legs. He flicked it on, smiling up briefly at the mech, then rubbed it gently along Mirage's inner thigh.

Mirage arched and gasped at the first touch of the baton, hands finding the surface of the berth and grasping at it. The warm jolt of electricity was exactly as Hound had described it, sensors lighting up along his thigh. "That's amazing, Hound," Mirage moaned, hips rocking against the air. He let go of the berth with one hand, petting his own chassis, teasing seams and his sensory grid.

"Yes, just imagine pressing it inside of your valve," the green mech said in reply, and he slid the length of the baton along Mirage's inner thigh again, then touched the barest traces of it to the mech's panel. "And this is at it's lowest settings," he murmured, smiling, and pressed a kiss to the mech's knee. Slowly he trailed the device up his partner's stomach plating, rubbing gently with the tip, and he smiled as he touched it to the seams that would transform the mech's chassis open to reveal his spark. Not that Mirage would do such for him, no, that was reserved for a bondmate or a medic only...

Mirage whimpered at the thought. His panel clicked open, his valve's entrance already moistened with lubricant. "Primus," he panted, optics glazed with arousal. He arched up into the baton's touch. "Primus please." He spread his legs farther apart, inviting more of Hound's ministrations.

Wrapping one arm around the mech's leg, he gritted his jaw at the sight of the beautifully wet valve, but he held himself back and leaned his helm against a knee. "That's me," he smartly replied to Mirage's words. He nudged the lithe mech's legs farther apart and fit himself in between them, running the baton's tip along the bottom edge of Mirage's valve. He placed a kiss over the mech's spike housing, flicking his glossa out to touch it, gently teasing at it within its recesses.

Mirage managed to choke out a laugh before his vocalizer failed him as the baton traced the rim of his valve and Hound teased his spike housing, gradually coaxing it out. "Feels so good, Hound, please more," Mirage said, intakes hitching with his arousal. He was so charged up, it almost hurt.

Hound reached forward with one hand and took one of the noble's in his, then brought it down to grasp over his spike so Mirage was holding himself. "I thought I told you to touch yourself..." he said in a low voice, husky with repressed desire. If he was any drunker he would've asked the noblemech to bond with him right then and there. The scene was just too beautiful. Though, he pressed the baton into the entrance of Mirage's valve, just barely penetrating him with it, and slowly turned it around in a circle.

Mirage trembled as Hound teased the entrance of his valve, bucking against the baton. He almost squeezed too tightly on his spike as he stroked it, trying to keep an even pace. He ran his hand from base to tip, careful not to move too fast or squeeze too hard. He didn't want to overload too soon, not with the pleasuring heat on the edge of his valve, holding the promise of an intense overload. "You... are an awful tease," Mirage said, a hint of frustration hidden under his lust.

A raspy laugh was all that Mirage would get in reply, and he affixed his lips to the tip of that spike to suck at it. His lips just barely passed the ridges on it, but that was fine. There was no need to deepthroat the mech. With his free hand he turned the pleasure setting up on the baton to medium, then reached up with his other hand to coax Mirage to lean back a bit. Savagely, and quickly, he thrust that baton up into the noble's valve, relentless and fast, then pulled it out, and thrust it back in. There would be so much pleasure to be had in this room, so much, and Hound could hardly wait to try a few of the other things out.

Mirage fell back against the berth, the ability to support himself vanishing from his systems at the merciless, intense, wonderful stimulation to his valve. He let out a brief, startled scream as the sensor nodes inside his valve were assaulted by the baton, bucking and writhing under Hound. One hand kept a tight hold on the berth, anchoring himself as he rode along on the electrifying pleasure.

The tracker was forced to let Mirage's spike out of his mouth, and instead he simply drew his hand up and down upon it, squeezing and pulling gently. Lubricant was leaking freely from the noble's valve, and if Hound pressed close enough until he was able to lick some of it up. Then, he upped the pleasure setting on the baton, nearly to high, and kept working it up and down, knowing that it wouldn't take long for the mech to overload.

Each slide of the baton wrung a moan or cry from Mirage, grinding back against the toy desperately. His frame shook with pleasure, CPU flashing warnings of overheating and imminent systems overload. "Hound, all the way, turn it on all the way, push it in deep, want to feel it all when I overload," Mirage begged, vocalizer laced with static. His valve clenched around the baton at the very thought.

Heat flared through him at the words, erotic as they were, and he quite believed that Mirage was the type who was most content to have a big spike up his valve. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he complied and flicked the pleasure setting up all the way and pressed it entirely into the mech, shortly thrusting his hand, and by extension, the baton. "C'mon Mirage, come for me, I wanna hear you scream. . ." he whispered.

Just as Hound wanted, Mirage screamed with the intesity of the baton at it's highest setting, pleasure so strong it almost hurt. He overloaded almost instantly, undulating on the berth as he rode the pleasure. He finally fell back after several moments, gasping desperately, fingers curled into claws on the berth's surface.

Hound gently withdrew it from Mirage's valve, careful of the reflexive clenching the overload would make the mech's valve do. There was a mixture of lubricant and transfluid on the berth, the noble's thighs, and some even on his stomach plating. "That was very nice, though you didn't obey me," he playfully teased, and flicked out a rag from his subspace so he could wipe up some of the lubricant on his hands and the transfluid from Mirage's stomach. "Mm, what I wouldn't give to watch Optimus 'face you... he's got a nice thick spike, I'd bet you'd like that," he coyly spoke.

Mirage noticeably shivered at the thought. He'd seen Optimus' spike before when he'd attended the orgy in the commissary. The Prime had been very well endowed, and watching him with the twins had made Mirage ache. He pulled his thoughts away, focusing on Hound, smiling sweetly back at him.

"I guess I'll have to do better at following your instructions next time then." He pulled his knees up, keeping them spread. "And as appealing as that sounds, I think I like the idea of 'facing you just fine."

"You think?" he said, repeating the mech's words in his own voice, and a giggle escaped him right after. He was still very drunk, and when he was drunk, it took him awhile to sober up. "Oh Mirage, I'd be happy to..." he purred, forgetting about the baton and focusing more fully on his partner. He climbed onto the berth next to Mirage and tugged on a piece of his spoiler, brushing his fingers gently. "Up on your knees, hands on the wall, facing it of course," he spoke, and was inanely glad that the berth was pushed up to a wall.

Mirage clambered up to his knees, still a little wobbly from his recent overload. He propped himself facing the wall, knees spread in anticipation for what Hound had planned. He wiggled his aft a little, smiling to himself. After all, he knew Hound, among others, found him attractive and enjoyed watching him. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't sort of like their appreciative looks, even if they did embarrass him sometimes.

His intakes hitched painfully as he saw Mirage move to the pose he had directed, and Hound carefully drew himself up onto the berth as well, panel open and spike painfully erect. It was delicious pleasure, so bad it hurt, and he couldn't wait to penetrate the beautiful mech. Too bad that Ratchet had gotten him first... As he drew closer, he gently moved his hands to the mech's hips to draw his pelvic unit about a bit farther, curving his back, and then growled playfully, giving Mirage a light smack. "I'll show you how a real mech interfaces." He drew his rigid spike to the entrance of the noble's valve, just barely pushing upwards inside of him, then moved his denta to bite into the back of Mirage's neck, anchoring him there. It was much like the position a pair of Cyberwolves would take when mating, the male of the pair would bite the back of the other's neck to ensure that it didn't escape. Then, he thrust his hips up and sheathed himself within, nipping down even harder on his partner's spinal strut.

A startled yelp escaped Mirage at the sting of Hound's 'love bites'. However the pleasure of being filled by the scout's spike quickly erased the previous pain. His hands fisted against the wall, helm falling against it as he pressed back against Hound's hips. "Is being bitten standard for interfacing with a 'real mech'?" Mirage teased. Despite the words, the contrast of the bite with the pleasure from Hound inside his extra sensitive valve sent a delightful shiver up his spinal strut.

When Mirage spoke, and when he moved, Hound bit down harder, pinching wires painfully between his denta. "It is with me," he managed to growl, his words hampered by Mirage's neck. Moving his hands up, he placed them on the wall above the noble's, his chassis heaving with deep breaths, and then rolled his hips forward, then back out, sliding his spike roughly, and most importantly, everywhere, within the mech's valve. Usually, he wouldn't do this, but drunk as he was, he couldn't resist the chance to take the mech in a more… uncivilized way. He couldn't resist, and if the mech was truly in pain, he would stop. Soon his hips were rolling in smooth and deep thrusts, pushing the mech closer to the wall and then away with his force.

Mirage's optics shuttered as he rocked with Hound's movement, whimpering, whether in pain or need he didn't know. His recent overload allowed him to feel every ridge of Hound's spike with great clarity as it slid along inside him. It was almost as intense as having that pleasure baton inside him again. However, this was far better. He enjoyed the connection of interfacing with another mech, feeling the roll of hips against his, the slide of a spike inside him, spreading his legs wide for his lover.

"Mirage," he said softly, breath hitching as he thrust his hips upwards again, and he couldn't help but feel so incredibly lucky for getting to interface with the mech. It wasn't often he got to have someone so small and beautiful. Most of Hound's other mates were about his own size, and rightly so. He was rough, and he knew that Mirage could never take the sort of abuse he was giving on a normal basis. The mech's frame wasn't built for it, and there would be some damage over time. But that didn't stop him from wanting the mech, and it was nice to indulge himself every once in awhile. It made his spark throb hotly in his chassis when he got the chance to exert himself.

Mirage's intakes hitched with each thrust, his inner fans cycling to cool him off and suck in more air. He tilted his hips, pushing back on Hound's spike as the scout thrusted upwards, gaining deeper penetration. Mirage moaned, throwing his helm back. "Mm, Hound," he managed to say before his vocal processor crackled with a static whine.

A grunt broke from Hound's lips as he jerked his hips upwards, slowly working to move in a faster and shorter circle. While Mirage had already overloaded, Hound had not, and the tight clenching of Mirage's wet valve was going to be his undoing shortly. The wet suction of the noble mech's valve turned him on something horribly, along with the wet and slick noises that were procured when Hound thrust his spike up. His pace quickened further, metal hips clanging against a narrow aft, and the tendrils of overload were teasing at his circuits, warning him that he was close. "Mirage," he whispered, nipping at his lover's neck. "I'm going to come, Mirage," he groaned, lips curling back into a grimace.

"'M close as well," Mirage's said. He whimpered, fingers clawing at the wall. He let one hand fall between his legs, experimentally reaching for his valve. He felt Hound's spike sliding back and forth at the rim. He pressed a fingertip inside, moaning at the tight fit of his own valve and Hound's spike filling it. It was finally enough, he overloaded with a cry from the feel of Hound's quick, powerful thrusts, valve clenching tighter around Hound.

Hound's optics flashed as he fought for a moment, and he could feel that familiar swelling in his spark as overload consumed him, inside and out it seemed, and his spike spilled transfluid inside of the noble's valve. Hound hurriedly thrust his hips forward to milk out all of the viscous fluid, high pitch gasps and moans breaking from his lips. Finally he stopped and reveled in the feel of that wet valve clenching around him, something almost like a sparkpulse. The green mech tilted his hips back and slid his spike out, unable to take the pressure around his sensitive member. He allowed his spike to retract and fell off to the side of Mirage with a clang, breathing hard and long. "Dear Primus," he said softly.

With a little more grace, Mirage lowered himself to lie beside Hound, vents working equally hard to cool him off. He leaned over, kissing Hound's cheek. He couldn't help smiling as he pulled away. "I hope I didn't wear you out," he said playfully.

Hound turned a lazy optic upon his newly required lover, and he was at such an angle that he could see the fluids seeping out of his valve and pooling onto the berth below. "'Mm too drunk to be concerned 'bout that," he replied, managing to pull a crooked smile onto his face.

Mirage sidled closer to Hound, resting his head on Hound's arm, elegant frame stretched along Hound's side. He let his optics rove over the sturdy green frame, gaze catching on the fluids splattered over Hound's crotch. "That's good to know." He brought his sight back up to focus on Hound's face.

"Indeed," Hound purred, and he shifted closer, a pair of handcuffs appearing in his hands. "Besides, I have the room rented all night. It'd be a right shame if he didn't make full use of it."


	7. A Sweet Thanks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirage needs help cleaning up after a messy interface, and who better to go to than Ratchet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: A Sweet Thanks  
> Authors: vectorsigma3441 as Ratchet, diamondunicorn as Mirage  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Characters/Pairings: Ratchet/Mirage  
> Summary: Mirage needs help cleaning up after a messy interface, and who better to go to than Ratchet?  
> Series: G1  
> Warnings: Oral, fingering, explicit sexual content, slash

Mirage was infinitely grateful for his electro disruptor as he and Hound returned to the Ark. Hound was alright, aside from some scuff marks and paint scratches. He could remove them himself just fine. Unfortunately the dents and bite marks on Mirage's own frame, and the limp from a pleasantly sore valve were not things that Hound could take care of and would need the assistance of a medic.

Lucky for Mirage, he could go to Ratchet without fear of a lecture or too much embarrassment. Although it was early, he was pretty sure that Ratchet would already be up and working for his shift. Mirage was right as he entered the medbay, seeing Ratchet already there and reviewing padwork.

He decloaked to greet the medic. "Hello, Ratchet. I hope I'm not bothering you, but I could use some help with some... cosmetic damage," Mirage said as he walked up to Ratchet's desk, face heating in embarrassment.

Ratchet started at the sudden noise and the rust stick he had been munching on snapped in half as his jaw tensed. It fell to his desk and he almost glared at the mech. He reached down with a red colored hand and picked it up to finish. Soon his optics roved over the mech's form, looking for said cosmetic damage. "Lookin' pretty rough Mirage," he noted, leaning back in his chair to carefully regard his form. Ratchet's blue optics were dull, almost glassy - a symptom of energon poisoning. Nothing serious, but it was obvious the mech had had a few too many the night before. The white and red mech stood slowly, approaching Mirage so he could gaze at his form. When he circled around back he noted the bite marks, and a high pitched click broke from his vocalizer. "Nice," he commented.

Mirage flushed hotter under the appreciative stare. "Yes... could you fix me, please?" He self-consciously rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, and over the bite marks Hound had left. "I'd rather the rest of the base not see me like this." He turned to Ratchet, helm tilted to the side as he kept a protective hand over his neck, resting most of his weight on one leg, the other raised to balance on the tip of his pede and easing some of the pressure on his valve, and looking up at the medic with wide, imploring optics.

Ah, so that was why Mirage had been cloaked. "Alright," he nodded, easily agreeing with the mech. He motioned to a berth with one hand, "Lay down on your front there," he said, and turned away to gather supplies. He grabbed some narrower tools with broad heads on them, thing that could be inserted under plating to gently pound out dents. He also grabbed some metal filler putty to fill up anything that wasn't just perfect. "So, tell me what happened? Who'd you let 'face you?"

Mirage did as Ratchet instructed, face turned to the side and his hands under it as he laid down. "Hound. He took me out to this energon bar he liked. We... got a little overcharged and stayed there for the night in one of the upstairs rooms they had." Mirage started idly tapping the tip of his pede against the foot of the berth.

Ratchet 'hrmped', another rust stick in his mouth. "He's a good mech. A little over zealous at times, but ehh," Ratchet said. He set the few items he had gathered on a small tray near Mirage's berth. He suddenly touched a hand to Mirage's inner thigh, rubbing his hand over a scratch mark, dark green on blue. "Sore valve I take it, huh? Open up and I'll put some salve in there." A red hand spanned up to Mirage's shoulder and he gently fingered the bite marks. "Kinky... he must've got you off good. How was it?" It didn't take him much to deduce exactly what position the mech had been taken in.

Mirage couldn't help smiling in memory. "Intense. Hound was determined to show me how 'a real mech interfaces', multiple times, actually." His panel clicked open and he shifted his legs wider for Ratchet. "The room we rented had a box of toys, and Hound tested almost every one on me at least once."

"Ooh, sounds hot," Ratchet absently noted, his dull optics managing to sparkle with a bit of interest and combined mirth. "Okay, I'm going to touch your valve, put some salve in there to get you to heal up nice and tight," the medic murmured. He bent over and opened a cupboard under the berth and pulled out a little can, opening it as he shut the door with his pede. He kneaded the purple mixture in his hand, warming it, and smeared some around his finger. Ratchet gently pressed his finger inside of the noble's overstimulated valve, packing it against his valve walls, and then removed his digit to put in more. "It'll get better in a minute here, just hold on. See, this is what happens when you get 'faced too many times."

"Well, it felt good when it was happening," Mirage said, embarrassed and burying his face in his arms. He tried to stay relaxed as Ratchet spread the salve inside him. Although sore, the warm salve was a soothing relief on his overworked valve. "Oh, that does feel better." He murmured into his elbow, his remaining tension leaving.

"Mhm, it has cooling properties in it to soothe your valve and take that uncomfortable heat away." He pressed more into Mirage and stopped when it was sufficiently filled. With a rag he cleaned his hand off, smiling broadly. "Mirage, Mirage... he's a lucky mech... what I wouldn't give to be able to work you over like that. What was your favorite thing that he did for you?" he coyly asked, planning on noting it for future reference. It never hurt to know what pleasured a mech the best. He shifted upwards, touching the bite mark on his shoulder, clicking his vocalizer.

"I'm not sure. I enjoyed so many of the things he did. He started off using a pleasure baton on me, which was quite the experience. I, um, kind of liked it when he handcuffed me and used several of the different toys on me. There were these vibrating valve beads, he pushed them all in one by one, then turned it on. He let me get charged up and close to overload, then he turned it off. He pulled them out one by one just as he pushed them in, and repeated it two more times, before he finally let me overload, and pulled them out quicker, but still individually as I overloaded, prolonging it... Primus that was good. Oh, and he put this remote controlled studded vibrator in me, stood at the other end of the room, and adjusted it as he talked dirty to me until I overloaded. Then he kept it on through that overload and into another one. There were also these... ah, spheres, only two of them and he inserted them inside me and had me walk around the room and they rubbed and moved inside my valve as I walked... I never knew Hound was so creative."

Ratchet quietly listened to Mirage as he worked, imagining all of the kinky things that the younger mech was describing. He'd obviously had quite the experience. His medical side kicked in, nodding as he listened. "For a mech as inexperienced and young as you are, you're able to do stuff like that, but not all the time. I'd say about four overloads should be your top for a night, or you could cause damage, especially to your valve. You don't want to get stretched out Mirage," he said, and gently swatted a hand against the mech's rump. "Also, when you're actively interfacing for that long, your valve can't keep up with lubricant after a few overloads. Hound probably brought artificial lube with him, but you should always have some with you too." He looked carefully at the bite mark and grabbed that slender tool, pressing it under Mirage's collar ridge between the plating. He gently started to tap at the marks, slowly straightening out the buckled metal.

"Alright, I'll make sure to remember all of that." Mirage winced as his plating was slowly straightened. It didn't hurt, but it felt weird to have the tool scratching along his plating and tapping at it as the dents were removed.

"Well I'm just telling you for your comfort and safety. It also makes my job easier because hopefully then I won't have you coming to me in tears because your valve hurts so bad," the medic pointed out. Arousal stirred through him, his hands gently shaking as he pounded out the last dent in the mech's frame. He carefully removed the tiny device after several minutes of boring and tedious work. There was a tiny, but powerful magnet on the end that helped pushing metal back out. Then he started to make it perfectly flat on the other side, and after a few minutes he was pleased with his work. One could barely tell what had been there, and Ratchet had managed to save most of the mech's paint too. "Oh yeah, you can close your panel," he said. "Anything else you want me to check over? Any concerns or things that have been bothering you?"

Mirage shook his head as his panel clicked shut. "I think I'm fine otherwise." Mirage frowned. "Tears? Ratchet, I'm not a sparkling wailing about dented knees anymore." He leaned back, legs parting slightly. He could imagine their talk of interface must have peaked Ratchet's interest. The mech looked fully composed, except for the tell tale sign of darkened optics. He tilted his helm, smiling coyly. "When did I stop being a sparkling to you?"

Ratchet's optics flickered a tiny bit darker. He drew a single finger down the curve of Mirage's backstrut, then rested his hand on the upward slope of Mirage's aft, his fingers and hand playing with the metal. "You stopped being a sparkling when you came in here that one day and I fragged you," he fondly admitted. "I couldn't believe it when I first saw you. My little Mirage, all grown up! But beautiful and sexy," he purred, leaning down so he could press a kiss to the base of the noble's spinal strut. "You should spend more time on my berth with your legs spread," he murmured. "I could show you things you've neverdreamed of..."

Mirage shivered. "If my valve weren't sore, or I wasn't already exhausted from overloads, I'd take you up on that offer in a spark pulse." He traced mindless patterns on the berth surface. "Although... that talk must have charged you up, and I'd hate to leave a friend in need. You work so hard for us, Ratchet, you deserve a lot more than just the satisfaction of a job well done." Even though it was flirting, Mirage fully believing what he said. Ratchet did do a lot for everyone, and dealt with so much stress. He deserved nice rewards like a good overload.

"Oh? What are you getting at?" Ratchet asked slowly. He shook his head, patting Mirage's rump. "Perhaps you should head up and go recharge," he murmured. "Unless you'd rather go recharge with Ironhide. He'll keep you warm, and won't interface with you." He seemed to be assuring himself of the fact. "But don't worry about me, I've got all shift to work off some steam. Maybe I'll get to push someone around." Giving orders was always fun, and he especially loved it because of his patients.

Apparently subtly and seduction were not Mirage's strengths. He couldn't help looking up at Ratchet with a slight pout. "I want to do something nice for you, like suck your spike. I'm not too tired for that."

Ratchet's blue optics brightened a few shades, and he barely managed to keep the smirk hidden off of his face. He ran another finger along Mirage's backstrut as he rounded in front of the berth. "You'd do that for me?" he murmured, and leaned down to kiss Mirage on his lips.

Mirage returned the kiss, shifting to lay on his side, and raising a hand to curl his fingers on Ratchet's shoulder. "Of course," he answered as they pulled away from the kiss. "I like giving you pleasure. And as I said before, you deserve it."

"Haha, I'm just doing my job. I'm nothing special compared to all of the other mechs on base. We all have important positions that insure the survival of the Autobots." But, he licked his lips, leaning down to kiss Mirage again. His fingers danced down the noble's chest, playing with his front plating, rubbing at wires when he was able to fit his fingers in between. "Just what exactly would little Mirage like to do to service me?" he murmured.

Mirage trailed his fingers on the medical emblem on Ratchet's shoulder. "Maybe... get on my knees for you. You could be standing over me, or sitting at the edge of one of the berths. I would suck your spike, stroke the parts I can't get into my mouth. Or maybe you'd like ordering me to not use them. You do seem to like being in control."

The medic's frame shuddered as he imagined it. "Curse me for always being so horny in the mornings," he muttered, wrapping his arms around the noble's shoulders to smother him in a hot kiss. "On your knees..." he whispered into the other's mouth. "I have a thing with being dominant like that," he spoke, affirming what the noble had said. The CMO shifted his frame, encouraging the other to take his rightful place by tugging on his shoulders. "I love being deepthroated in the mornings...Ironhide does it to me occasionally if he wants good sex after shift."

Mirage climbed off the berth, lowering to his knees before Ratchet. He rubbed his face against the bright red paneling of the medic's hips, kissing and licking it. "That must be a nice thing to wake up to," he murmured. He gently stroked along Ratchet's hips and thighs with his hands.

The CMO set his pedes on the floor but rested his aft on the medical examination table. "Oh yes... it is... and I usually open my chestplates and fondle my spark while he's doing it...feels so slaggin' good," he commented. "But, heh, your face is much prettier than his," he chuckled. The mech spread his legs, arousal gripping the tanks in his stomach. Ratchet decided to play easy and opened his panel right away, though his cord was still firmly nestled in its housing. "Good little mech," he breathed, rubbing his hand over the top of Mirage's helm. "I'm your master, serve me," he lightly joked.

Mirage chuckled, kissing Ratchet's spike housing. "With pleasure." He lapped at the sheathed spike. His hands roamed over Ratchet's hips, up his chassis, rubbing into seams and teasing plating. "You're one lucky mech to have a pretty little noble like me at your service." He moved down, giving a long lick from the top edge of Ratchet's valve and up and over his spike housing.

"Yes I am..." Ratchet groaned, his hips and legs twitching as Mirage licked and kissed him. "You're such a sweet mech...bet you never imagined doing this for your doctor when you were younger...Unless you were the type to have dirty thoughts like that..." he teased, feeling a trickle of lubricant travel down his valve. He brushed his hand lovingly over the noble's helm, caressing at the headfins that protruded outwards, creating for a soft and elegant look. He extended his spike a moment later, rigid and hard. What he wouldn't give to be serviced every morning like this...

Mirage shook his head, smiling. He started stroking the spike, giving it small licks. "Oh no, I never thought about doing this sort of thing with you, no offense. I was just so used to you." He finally took the tip of Ratchet's spike in his mouth. He worked up and down on it, gently sucking as he slowly took more in.

"Heh heh, none taken," Ratchet replied, pleasure and arousal teasing his circuits. A red colored hand moved down and he stroked a line down his hard shaft, finger laving over the tiny indents. "Suck harder," he demanded softly, "but only at my tip... move your glossa around into the slit on the end of my spike..." he groaned, holding both of his hands to the back of Mirage's helm to keep him there. "Make noises, wet ones," he added. The CMO enjoyed wet soppy noises when someone was sucking him off, it turned him on something fierce. "And murmur my name," he said finally, grinning lecherously.

Mirage kept only the tip of Ratchet's spike in his mouth swirling his glossa around it and teasing the slit. He sucked harder, cheeks hollowing as he made wet slurping sounds. Some oral fluid escaped from between his lips and trickled down Ratchet's spike. He moaned and tried to work around Ratchet's spike to speak. The best he could get out was 'Rahthit'.

"There you go youngling," Ratchet purred, and he wrapped his hand around his spike to pump, his hips working lightly, but not so as to press that far forward into Mirage's mouth. "You look so good on your knees..." the CMO murmured, warm heat traveling through his body in arousal and pleasure. "Alright, as much as you can fit in now," he said, moving his hand out of the way to touch the back of the noble's helm, gently pushing the mech on his spike a bit further. "Ahh, if you can manage it, finger my valve too."

Mirage relaxed his lower mandible, encasing most of Ratchet's spike in his mouth. The last third of it he wrapped his fingers around, sliding them along it as he sucked. He'd gotten better at taking spikes in his mouth, and could feel Ratchet's touching the back of his throat tubing. His other hand went to Ratchet's valve, circling the entrance with one finger before slowly pushing into the slick heat. He kept a steady pace, synchronizing his finger's movement with his sucking.

A mewl left Ratchet's vocalizer, his hips straining forward as he fought not to thrust. Oh he loved how Mirage sucked him, wet and warm, just perfect. His hand brushed up against the noble's cheek, smearing the oral fluids around that had leaked from his mouth. Ratchet slowly pulled his hips back, watching some of his spike appear, shining and wet, then slowly pushed back in, his expression nothing more than a grimace.

Mirage would have smiled if he could have. He added another finger, twisting and curling them inside Ratchet. His glossa slid back and forth over the underside of Ratchet's spike, and he took a little more of it in, just enough that the tip was constricted by his throat tubing. It was uncomfortable and he fought back his gag reflex, instead making a swallowing motion, mimicking a valve constricting in overload, and hummed.

Ratchet's expression was pleasured, head lolled back on his shoulders as he forced his hands to remain on the side of the berth. A whine filtered from his vocalizer, needy and desperate, and his optics flickered over to the door, which was completely open. He hadn't thought to shut it, and hoped someone would walk in on them... Then, he smiled cheekily at the security camera, the only one that was in the medbay. They were only allowed in the main part, private rooms were like that for a reason. Either Red Alert or Blaster were getting quite the show. "Ahhh... almost there," he groaned, lubricant flowing freely out of his valve. "Mm, harder Mirage, please..." he vehemently begged.

Mirage sucked harder, making as much noise as he could with the wet suction of his mouth on Ratchet's spike, continuing to hum and swallow for extra stimulation. He added a third finger to Ratchet's valve, thrusting faster. Very gently, he set his dental plating on Ratchet's spike, sliding back and forth on it, scraping the metal delicately and revving his engine for a more intense vibration than his humming.

Ratchet's pleasure was great, and soft hurried whines broke from him as he moaned, panting and so very pleased. He felt that familiar churning within his tanks, his gaze falling blank as overload fell upon him. Though, as Ratchet came, valve clenching and spike throbbing, he jerked his hips back, spike slipping out of Mirage's wet mouth. The lingering oil on his spike broke off from Mirage's lips as his transfluid splashed against Mirage's face, and the medic gasped at the scene, more transfluid dribbling out of the tip of his spike.

Mirage blinked in surprise as warm transfluid trickled down his face. He looked back up at Ratchet, pouting. "You could have warned me you were going to do that," he said. Despite the slight reproach, he licked around his mouth, catching some of the Ratchet's transfluid.

Steam rose from Ratchet's mouth, and he panted harshly for a few moments, viscous fluids dripping off of his spike. He looked at Mirage's face, covered in his transfluid, and he shivered again, feeling more arousal stir through him. "Sorry... but that would've taken the surprise element away..." he whispered. He wasn't sure if he wanted to grab a rag and help the noble wipe it off, or make Mirage do it himself. His spike was still proudly erect, and for the moment he made no move to tuck it away.

Mirage shook his head, fighting back a smile. "Well, I'm starting to get used to the incorrigible behavior of this base, at least." He gently grasped Ratchet's spike, holding it as he wrapped his lips around the tip, sucking and licking off the remaining transfluid from it. He smiled back up at Ratchet when he was finished, sitting back on his heels before standing back up. "May I borrow a cloth to clean myself up?"

"Mm, sure," the medic murmured, hastily tucking his spike away before he became aroused again. He shut his panel and turned, walking over to a cabinet, where he pulled out a soft cloth, and returned to the noble. His optics dulled as professionalism stole over him, and he began dabbing at Mirage's face, wiping up all the transfluid. He brought his face closer and kissed the noble, flicking his glossa across the other's lips, the rich scent of transfluid permeating his senses. "You smell good..." he whispered.

Mirage chuckled. "I can't imagine why," he teased playfully. He kissed Ratchet's cheek, before pulling away. "I should probably go now and recharge. I've been quite active the last few cycles."

"Alright... you can curl up with Ironhide if you'd like, he just got off shift and is sleeping like a pile of slag... but you can go to your room too... anything you want," he kindly spoke, his circuits still singing from his overload.

"Alright, thank you," Mirage said, lingering a moment. Curling up with the broad, warm frame of Ironhide was appealing, and it made him think. He liked recharging with Ratchet and Ironhide. They were both nice, and watching them together stirred in him the desire to find love like they had.

When he thought about finding someone serious and begin a relationship, his thoughts always strayed to Prowl. The mech was admirable, and displayed many traits favored by the nobles, and certainly by Mirage. Composed, intelligent, distinguished, skilled, graceful. And he'd always been polite and thoughtful to Mirage, listening to him and asking how he was doing. Getting to know Prowl, Mirage had grown to look forward to his company and he'd found himself liking the tactician as more than a friend. How to go about expressing his feelings had left the young noble puzzled and slightly anxious.

As two high ranking officers, Ratchet might know better how to approach Prowl. Mirage glanced up at Ratchet, suddenly self-conscious under the mech's optics. "Ratchet, I think I, um, like someone. But, I'm not sure how to... well, show my interest in him. Or if he will even return it. He could very well only think of me as a friend, and it would be truly embarrassing to open up to him and be rejected. I'm not sure what to do."

A curious expression stole over Ratchet's face, one optic brightening more than the other. He wrapped his arms around the mech's shoulders, gently hugging him. "Well first of all you don't want to take anything too fast. Maybe take him out before you make a move on him, if that's what you want to do. I guess it depends on the mech in question. Take it slow, is my professional and personal opinion. Especially if you're looking for someone to be more than an occasional partner with you. Will you tell me who it is you're interested in?"

"Prowl," Mirage said softly, pressing into the comforting hold. "He's so... professional and mature, I don't know if he could ever like me. Or if he's just nice to me because I'm a noble like him and he's concerned about how I'm handling living here. I just... am I the sort of mech he'd like?"

Ratchet gazed down at the smaller mech, then grabbed his hips, running his hand along his thighs, and he hiked Mirage up, forcing the other mech to wrap his legs around his waist. "Well, Prowl doesn't interface with many... He's active, mind you, but doesn't really go seeking a mech very often... Ah, he's the dense type, really dense, especially when it comes to anything intimate. I think the last mech he was with was either Smokescreen or Bluestreak. I've heard stories that he's into all of that domination and submission stuff, but I couldn't say for sure. But you have a good a shot as any, I say go for it. I'm sure you two could connect on a level that no one else here can because of your background." Ratchet started walking to where his room was. Although the mech hadn't said if he wished to stay with Ironhide, Ratchet wanted him to.

Mirage curled up in Ratchet's hold, arms holding onto his shoulders as his legs wrapped around the medic's waist. He rested his chin on Ratchet's shoulder and offlined his optics. "Thank you," he murmured, kissing Ratchet's helm. "What kind of things does Prowl like to go out and do? Or is he the sort to prefer to stay on base for social engagements? Would it be better to admit before asking him out that I'm interested in him, or during it?" Mirage buried his face in Ratchet's shoulder, laughing. "It's been so long since I had these sort of worries." He wasn't even sure if he was asking Ratchet, or just wanted to say his thoughts out loud.

"Haha, I couldn't say Mirage, I haven't ever gone out with him," he gently reminded the mech. He shouldered the keypad open to his apartment and stepped inside the familiar complex. He easily maneuvered the place in the dark and strode into the room with Ironhide, where he gently set the noble down on the berth. Ironhide was sleeping soundly in the middle, but his frame uncurled from its posture to instinctively welcome another mech on the berth. "He won't do anything, I promise. He just likes to...cuddle," Ratchet laughed.

Mirage smiled and laid his head on Ironhide's chassis. He wrapped an arm around the old warrior, nestling into the embrace. "Cuddling's fine with me," he said, systems winding down. His optics flickered before shutting off and he was in recharge moments later.


	8. Sweet Restraint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirage finally summons the courage to ask Prowl out, and finds out the truth of those rumors about the second-in-command.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Sweet Restraint  
> Authors: diamondunicorn as Mirage, vectorsigma3441 as Prowl  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Characters/Pairings: Prowl/Mirage  
> Summary: Mirage finally summons the courage to ask Prowl out, and finds out the truth of those rumors about the second-in-command.  
> Series: G1  
> Warnings: Explicit sexual content
> 
> Notes: Please check out some fanart for chapter 5! http://deathcomes4u.deviantart.com/art/Sweets-Verse-ch-5-142029003

Morning was Mirage's favorite time of the day on the base. Mostly because he could have some time alone to talk to Prowl. He'd always find him in the commissary, drinking his ration of energon, studying a datapad. Mirage would take a seat at Prowl's table. Prowl would ask how Mirage was adjusting, Mirage would answer. They'd talk about their homes, studies of culture, art, music, plays they had seen and enjoyed before those things became far more scarce with the war. And they'd continue to chat until Prowl had to excuse himself, and he would always be the first to excuse himself because Mirage's duties never started as early as Prowl's.

Mirage took a seat at Prowl's table, smiling to hide his nervousness. "Hello, Prowl. How are you this morning?" he asked politely.

Prowl's gaze flicked up and he smiled warmly, the barest of his denta glittering though. It seemed that the other noble was coming to visit him more and more often recently. "I'm good, as always. How're you?" he asked, respectfully setting his datapad down on the table. Of course he thought the little mech was attractive, but more than just physically appealing. He was nice and sincere. Virginal-like even. Just sweet and innocent, something that the war seemed bent on taking from all of them. He picked up his cube and took a slow draught, his blue optics sparkling brightly. Really, Mirage was a nice reminder that there was still some hope...

"I'm doing well. I finished reading 'The Cold Secret' last night. Granted, being written about Senator Remix's life, I already knew how it would end, but it was still interesting to read his work for removing corruption in the justice system. Thank you for recommending it to me," Mirage said. Under the table, he was twining and twisting his fingers together, a habit he had when he was excited or anxious.

"Yes, he is an extraordinary mech..." Prowl murmured, nodding his helm in agreement. It was a tad earlier than normal, so he still didn't have duty yet, even though he was always early for his shift anyways. Well, as SIC, he didn't have shifts, he pretty much worked all the time. "I'll have to think up some more for you to read. I've got quite a few datapads in my room. I also have a large archive of music." Not to mention that he pretty much had all of Cybertron's database resources available to him. It wouldn't be hard to get anything he wanted. "So, you're on shift today?" he asked.

"No," Mirage's gaze flitted away from Prowl's for a moment before focusing back on him. "I was actually wondering... if you were busy all of today? If not, I was hoping that you might... want to spend some of it with me? I enjoy talking with you, but usually we only have the mornings to do that. I'd, well, I'd like to spend more time with you. Y-you're a very, um... interesting mech to know. A-and I mean that in a good way. You're courteous, educated, honorable, and you have such rich tastes, and, well... I-I like you..." Mirage had dropped his gaze to his lap, wringing and squeezing his hands fretfully.

Prowl's expression did not change, but he allowed a small smile to show on his face after the mech was all finished. "Sure, I'd love to. I get off later tonight, I'll just comm you... Where would you like to go?" the SIC softly spoke, cocking his head to the side as he spoke softly. The bars around the area weren't exactly that reputable, and it wasn't the proper place for a date anyways, and he really didn't know where else to go. Also, by that time, most interesting places would be closed... a tough problem.

Mirage looked up, surprised. A smile spread across his own face, and he finally relaxed. "Really? That's... that's great." Well more like a relief. "I wasn't even sure you'd want to. There's this... bar that Hound told me about. It's supposed to be rather nice. Clean, attendants are rather civil, it's tasteful compared to most bars. They like showing movies for their patrons and tonight is supposed to be classics night. I think they're showing 'False Truths', 'Twelve Virtues', and 'Throwaway'. Does that sound good?"

Prowl nodded, smiling still. "Yes, that'd be perfect," he said. "I get off in about six cycles... But, the faster I work the earlier I can be free, so I suppose I should leave already," he chuckled, blue optics bright in interest. He finished the rest of his cube and picked his datapad up, then quickly shoved it into his subspace. He stood up, giving a slight bow of his upper chassis as he excused himself. "Until later," he murmured, a lustful glint in his optics, but he wasn't sure if the other noble would catch it. Then, he turned around and strode away, exiting the room in favor for his office.

Mirage slumped back in his chair, laughing giddily. He rose from his chair after a moment, grabbing a cube of energon and heading to the medbay. He had to tell Ratchet, and thank him again for the advice and reassurance.

\---

Later, when Prowl was nearing the end of his 'shift' he stared dejectedly at the pile of datapads on his office desk, a frown forming on his face. He glanced back once to the door that led to his personal quarters. There was another door in his room, one that led to his personal washracks, and although he was shining and gleaming like normal, he wondered if he should've cleaned up a bit more for his little date with Mirage. Rubbing a hand on his face, he decided against it, and thought that he'd put it off long enough, and didn't want to make the cute mech wait any longer. 'Mirage,' he said over his comm, 'If we're still on, care to meet me by the main entrance in five breems?'

'Of course, I'll see you then,' Mirage replied. He was waiting at the entrance within four; washed, waxed, and credits subspaced for the night. Even though he expected Prowl would likely pay for himself, having a more generous pay than the rookie spy, Mirage still had enough credits to pay for drinks for the both of them. It never hurt to be prepared.

Prowl was there a minute or two after, no datapad in hand, as there usually seemed to be one. He smiled broadly at his date, greeting him with a wave. The main door to HQ was open, as it usually was, because there was no sense shutting it with how many mechs traveled in and out. It was tightly monitored at least. "All right, let's head to this bar you were speaking about," the black and white mech said softly. Like a gentlemech, he curved his arm and offered it to the other noble, doorwing relaxed and in an easy upwards posture.

Mirage took it, smiling back at Prowl as they left the base. They arrived at the bar in three breems, and quickly seated at one of the establishment's booths and handed a list of drinks. There was a light scattering of mechs, a small group of friends, and several couples. It was quiet, peaceful, and clean with low lighting creating a subdued air about the bar. Mirage would have to thank Hound when he saw him, this place was the closest to classy a mech could get anymore with the war.

"I feel like I should've known about this place," Prowl said quietly, and he shifted in the comfortable seating, his gaze falling to the big holoscreen that was centered in the middle of the room. It was actually quite romantic, and he liked it a lot. He looked over his menu, and glanced up as the lighting dimmed overhead. One of the movies must've been starting. A drone approached them and Prowl placed his order of high grade with a tint of rust and oil, his gaze moving back onto the movie screen. "Ahh, False Truths..." he said softly. "One of my old favorites..."

Mirage placed his own order of sweetened high grade with crystalized fragments. "I always loved watching it. It's such a beautiful movie," Mirage murmured. "I recall hearing the director based the two main leads off he and his own lover, and after the movie premier, he proposed bonding." Mirage couldn't help smiling in amusement. "And there were rumors they didn't wait for an official bonding ceremony, unusual for two of high culture."

"I've heard of nobles bonding without a ceremony, but not many either..." Prowl admitted, he watched the screen, happy that they had picked a round booth. He and Mirage would be able to sit side by side and comfortably watch the video. "If only all love was as whimiscal and pretty as theirs is," Prowl commented, and when the drone came back with their drinks, he paid for both of them without thought. The tactician's mix was a bit stronger and more bitter than the other mech's, but that was the way he liked it. "A forbidden love that could never be," he said, smiling as he took another drink. The SIC chuckled and bowed his helm in an apology. "Sorry, we don't have to sit this far apart," and he scooted his aft over, until he was in the middle for perfect viewing, and motioned for his date to join him.

Mirage slid over beside Prowl. "Real love can be quite exciting as well, in it's own right. My creators loved leaving one another little gifts for no reason than that they could. Or they'd serve each other a meal in bed. Mostly they'd write little love notes and leave them in places the other frequented. It was always so sweet and romantic. If a little embarrassing to witness at times."

Prowl listened, and while Mirage spoke, all of his attention was fixed carefully on the mech. Their frames were a respectful distance apart, and he laughed as the noble finished. "Sounds romantic," he quietly said, turning his optics back to the holoscreen for a moment. "A much sadder story with my creators, but I won't get into that now," he said softly. Prowl took another drink of his energon and licked his lips, cleaning them of any residue. The liquid settled pleasantly in his tanks, and he sighed in obvious relaxation. "This was a good idea..." he murmured quietly.

Mirage momentarily puzzled over what could have happened with Prowl's creators, but didn't press. He'd tell Mirage if he wanted to. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, I was worried about how well tonight would go for us." He raised his half empty cube, taking a sip. "Thank you for paying for my drink, I really appreciate it." He mentally chastised himself for getting distracted by their chat and almost forgetting to offer his gratitude.

"No problem, you can have as many as you can handle," the tactician offered, smiling generously at his date. Though, his attention was taken away when another mech appeared at their table and formally greeted Prowl. He was big, green colored, and a slender pink femme was at his side. Prowl didn't bother to get up, and he chatted with them politely for a few moments before they took the hint and moved off. "Springer and Arcee," Prowl said lowly, irritation in his voice. "Sorry about that," he murmured, glancing to Mirage, and pressed a button on the tabletop to order a refill for both of them.

"It's alright," Mirage said. He smiled at the scene playing out in the movie. "Oh, I love this part." Such a poignant moment as the lovers reunited, embracing. Not a word passed between the pair on the screen, just touching their helms together, staring into each other's optics as they held one another. Mirage leaned into Prowl's side, letting his helm fall onto the tactician's shoulder.

Prowl's optics flickered as Mirage rested his helm on his shoulder, and he turned to press a soft kiss to it. "It's alright," he gently teased. "But I prefer the fighting scene instead... I can figure out battle odds much better that way, even if it's only a film," he murmured, daring to move his arm up and wrap around the mech's shoulder. It appeared that the date was going well so far. Which was a good thing, because the tactician was usually horrible at them. Then again, he'd never been that interested in finding partners. Prowl watched apathetically as the pair kissed on the holoscreen, "My little brother would love that scene," he murmured.

Mirage curled closer as Prowl's arm fell around him. "You have a little brother?" he asked, surprised. Mirage had sometimes spoken of his own family to Prowl, but the tactician had never said anything about what his was like. Mirage had always figured it was an uncomfortable subject for him.

Prowl turned his helm to regard Mirage with a keen blue optic. "Yes, two little brothers in fact. Smokescreen and Bluestreak," Prowl kindly answered, though there was a guarded inflection to his voice. Not many mechs knew about that little secret of his, that he had brothers, much less the other and far more pressing secret. When Prowl looked back to the holoscreen, the credits were flashing. Since they'd arrived a little late in the evening because of Prowl's shift, there wasn't the chance to get drunk, or to even stay around long. But, it was still fun. "Should we head back?" he wondered quietly.

Mirage nodded. "It is getting late," he said, processing what Prowl had just told him. Smokescreen and Bluestreak were his brothers. Had Ratchet been mistaken about them being recent partners of Prowl's? Even if he had, there was no mistaking what Mirage had seen at that... party he'd attended. Smokescreen interfacing Bluestreak against a wall. Incest wasn't something common in their society, aside in spark twins who shared a connection similar to bondmates and were the exception.

He wasn't sure how to feel about it. All three were nice, friendly mechs. He didn't talk to Smokescreen that much, but he did talk often with Bluestreak. Incest was always spoken with such disapproval by the nobles, including his more adventurous and open-minded peers. It just wasn't done. But Prowl, Smokescreen, and Bluestreak were all quite content and well adjusted. Mirage just let the thought drop for now.

Although a new one did pop up in his CPU. "Smokescreen and Bluestreak... don't act noble raised. And they've never said anything about being Praxus nobles," Mirage said, very hesitantly. "Is that, just their way?"

"They were the lucky pair... and we usually don't tell many people that we're brothers. Since they're younger, they didn't have many responsibilities... unlike myself. After my creators passed away, I was the one who took charge of the Praxus manor..." Prowl murmured, politely nodding his head. "So yes, they act like that because they always have." He smiled and stood up, moving around to the other noble's side so he could offer his arm to support Mirage up and act as an escort. "We should probably head back to base now..."

Mirage took the offered arm, rising from his seat. He held onto Prowl's elbow, as proper when being escorted, as they left the bar. "Smokescreen and Bluestreak are quite lucky then, that they had you to look out for them, and that you still do have each other," Mirage said softly. He hadn't been so lucky. Losing both his creators, one to the war, the other to his own grief.

"I'm sorry about what happened to your creators, Mirage. I read about them when I reviewed your file for admission, and I'd heard about it beforehand. As you can see, things didn't work out so good for me either. I was forced to take military training and ended up in the Autobots with my brothers. Nobility is overrated." The base building was in his line of sight, enormous against the black night sky. He wasn't quite sure how much the other noble was interested in him, and he wondered if he should've considered walking the mech back to his room to say goodnight, or bidding him a good night in the entrance of the headquarters. After all, the idea of interfacing after the first date did seem like too much to hope for.

"It certainly didn't do either of us any favors," Mirage agreed. "But thank you, for the sympathies." He craned his head, taking in the sight of the base. "It will be sad to have this night end. It was quite lovely." He pressed closer to Prowl, reluctant at the idea of having to eventually let the mech go his own way. He debated whether to broach the subject of prolonging their date. Was Prowl the sort to accept an offer of interface so soon?

It was as they entered the base that Mirage gathered his courage to ask. "If you're, um, interested... I'd like to," Mirage ducked his head, face heating. Usually interface just happened for him, he didn't have to ask someone if they wanted to, they almost always offered first. His voice failed him.

Prowl's optics brightened and he shifted against the other mech. "We can go back to my room if you'd like," he suggested, running his glossa over over his lips, "and see where that takes us." A shiver of anticipation ran through him, as he hadn't expected the mech to be so open to him. But then he knew that in one point of their lives, most soldiers had lust for a commander. Perhaps he was just a bit drunk enough and too susceptible to the younger noble's charm. "This way," he softly said, the other's arm still entwined with his, and he started off down the hallway to his room

Mirage looked back up, smiling brightly. "Yes, I'd like that," he said. There was a small, content smile on his lips as Prowl led him through the base to his quarters. The young noble glancing up at Prowl, before shyly averting his optics again. Suddenly, he wondered if Ratchet was right about the second in command having a domination streak.

Prowl stopped at his door, punching in the code on the holoscreen that had appeared out of the air, using one finger. The door to his room gave way, and he stepped inside, his optics dimming. It smelled fresh and clean, new, and everything inside the room was neatly arranged. Prowl went over to his desk, lips parted as he hummed quietly, and set his datapads in the drawers on his desk. They were confidential, so he had to make sure the noble didn't see them. It was a modest office, a few personal pictures, but nothing that impressive. There were holopics of the brothers waving and smiling, all pressed tightly together. Then, the black and white mech turned back to his date, approaching him. The tactician carefully moved his hands to those curvy blue hips before him, then leaned his helm forward to press a kiss to Mirage's mouth, moving so very slowly. If the noble just wanted to cuddle, Prowl would do that, but if he wanted to interface, Prowl would do that too.

Mirage returned the kiss, arms winding around Prowl's shoulders. He leaned into the other's frame and shuttered his optics, savoring the kiss. He was used to mechs sweeping him up in a haze of passion and lust. Slow, gentle kissing like this was usually something saved for after the overload, as his lovers held him close after interface. This was nice, though.

Prowl kissed him tenderly, softly, his optics nearly off as he ran his hands around Mirage's waist to his back, pressing his fingers up against his backstrut. He broke away for a moment to nuzzle his forehead against the other noble's, his chevron gently bumping into blue metal. His doorwings were erect and fanned out, feeling for anything behind him as he slowly started to move backwards, and only stopped when his aft hit his desk. He turned to the side, still guiding Mirage gently along, and reached one hand out to spin his chair around so he could sit down, and he pushed and pulled the noble's hips to make the other sit the edge of his aft on the lip of his desk. Smiling up at him, Prowl murmured, "If you're sure...?"

Mirage nodded without hesitation, smiling sweetly. "Yes, I am," he said. He leaned a little against the desk, hands bracing back against it. His chin was tucked in slightly as he looked down at Prowl, optics bright and alert, eager for the tactician's next move.

Prowl smiled, nuzzling the side of his face on Mirage's stomach. "Tell me, are you a dominant type of mech?" Prowl asked, perhaps a little too drunk to be thinking straight. Normally, he'd have waited longer for such an encounter... But the other noble just seemed so eager. He pressed kisses to the plating, working his way down, twisting his helm from side to side to exaggerate his movements. He needed to know Mirage's sexual habits to be able to please him properly.

Mirage giggled at the light touches, petting Prowl's helm. "No, it doesn't appeal to me," he answered, tracing Prowl's chevron with a finger.

"Mm, touch my doorwings," Prowl murmured, his glossa laving a wet path as he trailed lower. He scooted his chair closer and spread Mirage's legs, curling his fingers around the mech's knees. Supple lips kissed Mirage's panel, and he bared his denta so he could nibble at the seam, then with a chuckle beforehand, he bit down hard. "It's my belief that a little rough play in interfacing is always beneficial..." Prowl said.

Mirage hissed at the pain, stilling for a moment. He collected himself, hands moving down to Prowl's doorwings. He curiously explored, touched, and stroked whatever part he could reach. Running his palms over the broad sides, fingertips gliding along the edges, circling joints and tweaking cables. "Well, I will admit in my... honestly limited experience, it has felt strangely good."

"Of course it does," Prowl murmured, then licked over the spot he had bit with a hot glossa, nuzzling gently at the scuff mark he's made in the mech's paint. "I can tell now you're a good little submissive... One who likes to do what his lover tells him, no matter what, hmm?" He looked up, blue optics deep and beautiful. "Perhaps we should... do some roleplay?"

Mirage smiled shyly at Prowl's look, touches slowing to a more idle pace. "What kind of roleplaying?" he asked curiously.

"The good kind, of course," he teased. Prowl placed one more kiss on Mirage's panel before he scooted back and stood up, rubbing his front to his partner's. "Master and slave roleplay, more specifically," he said with a dashing smile. "Have you ever played it before?"

"I'm afraid I haven't," Mirage said, slightly embarrassed. The thought of pretending to be Prowl's slave... was an attractive one. "Or, really roleplayed at all actually. I'm willing to try though," he quickly added, not wanting to deter the idea. He hoped Prowl wouldn't find his inexperience unappealing.

"Alright," Prowl murmured, leaning forward to briefly kiss him. Getting a new idea in mind, he gently tugged on Mirage's hands while he took a step back, leading him into his room. It was rather large, which as SIC, he had more than a right to. There was a... surprisingly large berth planted in the very middle of the room, and if one looked closely, it appeared as though there were personal objects from more than one mech laying scattered about. It wasn't dirty, but it was untidy. "Sorry about the mess," he said softly. "First of all, you need to name a safeword...then I want you to sit down on the floor."

"It's fine," Mirage assured, looking over the room curiously. He turned back to Prowl. "What's a safe word?" He couldn't help feeling embarrassed at his own ignorance. He was starting to wonder if he was in over his head involving himself with Prowl.

Prowl blanched for a moment. "It's uhh, well it's a word you can say when things are getting too intense, or if you don't like something and want to stop, or take a rest." He smiled kindly at him, doorwings loose and relaxed. "In roleplay, you obviously take on the role that you're assigned to, or whoever you choose. In this case you would be the slave while I would be the master. A safeword probably won't be necessary for us in this first round, I tend to make the first sessions relaxing... sometimes it's good to let go of control... but nonetheless..."

"Alright," Mirage said, smiling. He contemplated the request for a moment. It would have to be something that wouldn't come up in conversation of a roleplay or during interface. "Will turret work?" It had been the name of his favorite turbo hound, and thus, easy to remember.

Prowl nodded, "It'll work perfectly," he said softly, and moved over to sit down on the edge of the berth. He purposely spread his legs, giving Mirage a good view of his panel. Then leaned back, fanning his hands out to support him. "Now, slut, sit down on the floor like I said," the tactician murmured coolly, his blue optics icy. Prowl tipped his chin down to regard his newest treasure's form, assessing all of his curves and colors. "In this room, you will do as I say."

Mirage blinked in surprise, before catching on that they were now roleplaying as master and slave. "Yes, sir," he said diffidently, smoothly sliding to his knees between Prowl's legs. He looked up at Prowl, waiting for his next order like he imagined a slave would. He kept in mind that this was a roleplay, and what Prowl said meant nothing on how he really felt.

Prowl smiled, one hand moving to grasp Mirage's chin. "No, here you call me master," he reprimanded. "You look so ready to suck me off while you're on your knees, it turns me on... But move back a few paces and sit down on your aft, legs crossed." He wanted to make Mirage squirm, for him to leak lubricant out of the tiny seams on his panel before he would allow him to open it. He wanted Mirage to beg for it.

Mirage scooted back, sitting as Prowl had ordered, with his back straight and a hand on each knee. "What would you like me to do, master?" Mirage asked.

Prowl drew a finger up to his lips, signaling for silence. "You'll only speak when spoken to, my little whore..." Prowl murmured. He paused for several moments so he could stroke his own hand over his panel, his fingers twisting and turning in an elegant and almost artistic pattern as he touched between his legs. "You know how I'm always up early? Well, anyways, I was walking by the medbay a few weeks ago and I heard moaning coming from within. As a naturally curious mech, I had to look inside... Can you guess what I saw, slut?" he asked quietly.

Mirage's optics widened, face heating up as he realized what Prowl was talking about. "Y-you saw that?" he asked, voice nervous and faint. He didn't know whether to be mortified at being caught with Ratchet by his crush, or relieved that Prowl had still agreed to see him.

"Mirage!" Prowl cut in, "You are not obeying me! The more you forget your place, the longer you're going to end up waiting." He shifted around until he was laying comfortably on his side, a hand playing with his chevron. "It's not you; it's master," he corrected. He drew a singular finger down his cheek and circled it around his lips, where he pressed it inside so he could gently suck on it. "Of course I saw you, I take that route every morning..." he said around his finger. "Though I think I was lucky to see just the end part. When Ratchet pulled out and gave you a facial, mm... I had to turn around and go relieve myself... it was very hot." Of course he didn't mention that he'd had a little pair of lips that had helped with his overload..

Mirage hunched his shoulders, bowing his head meekly at Prowl's scolding and nodded. He kept his optics on Prowl, watching the tactician sucking on his own finger. He imagined Prowl watching him, getting aroused enough to have to service himself to the image of Mirage covered in transfluid. Mirage bit his lip, shifting a little on his aft and feeling the beginning wetness of lubricant seeping from his valve.

Seemingly satisfied with Mirage's reaction for the moment, Prowl continued on without reprimanding the noble further for not replying with 'Yes Master' to his demand. He sighed loftily and squeezed his thighs together, pleased with his own reaction of arousal. "Perhaps you can't imagine how good it looks from another mech's perspective... You just seemed so innocent, so soft, and noble like, but when I saw that...You can suck a mech pretty good, can't you Mirage? Do you sleep with a lot of mechs? Let them do whatever they want?"

"Y-yes, master. I can't help enjoying letting others have their way with me. I feel comfortable doing this with so few mechs though, that I have only three partners, besides yourself." Mirage said, nervous and hoping that wasn't a rhetorical question.

"Hmm..." Prowl astutely observed, nibbling on the end of his finger before he let it go. "You're a good little mech Mirage, I can tell. You try hard to please others, in more than one way… I find traits like that very admirable. Loyal mechs are important to the Autobot cause." He stopped and caught himself before he managed to get into a lecture. "Now, move your legs out in front of you and tease your panel," he carefully instructed, while he let his own open. He circled a fingertip around the narrow opening of his valve, smearing the lubricant around.

Mirage shifted back, drawing his knees up and apart to show off his panel. He let his fingers rub and tease over it, unable to help rocking his hips into his own touch. He watched Prowl's hands, feeling the building wetness behind his panel. He kept it shut, not wanting to open it unless under Prowl's orders.

"You're getting worked up too quickly Mirage. This is supposed to be relaxing," the black and white tactician chastised. His spike housing was clearly visible, along with the tip of his spike nestled inside. But he did not extend.

Mirage wanted to argue. Touching his panel while watching Prowl was hard not to get aroused by. Instead he slowed his own touches, and stilled his hips, trying to keep some composure. He wasn't used to waiting, usually it only took some short foreplay before something was put in his valve.

Prowl slithered off of the berth, his doorwings flaring out behind him as he drew himself onto the floor. Licking his lips, Prowl leaned his back against the side of the berth, flattening his doorwings so they could fit properly. The tactician took his attention off of the other noble for a few moments to slide his hips out, then spread his legs so he could reach a hand in between. Jerking his arm upwards, he fingered himself roughly, two fingers sliding in and out, lubricant squelching around his digits each time he pushed them back in. His spike slowly extended until it was proud and erect. The black and white mech pulled his fingers out of his valve and wrapped his hand around his spike, carressing right under the prominent ridges on the head. "Open your panel," Prowl muttered, his voice breathy and low. "Rub your node, but that's it," he demanded.

"Yes, Master," Mirage said. His panel clicked open, his valve starting to get wet with lubricant. He sat further back on his aft to give a good show, one hand wrapping around a knee to hold it back. He pressed a finger into his valve, reaching in, and finding a sensor node. He whimpered as he rubbed his finger over it and flicked it.

Prowl watched for a few moments before he leaned forward and crawled over to Mirage on his hands and knees. He moved to his aft, gently reaching for Mirage's hand so he could pull it away. He traced the digits with his own, then drew that hand up to his mouth, pressing the one with lubricant on it into the warm wetness, his glossa rolling over and around it, sucking on it. Parting with a final lick, he murmured, "Extend your spike."

Mirage rubbed a finger over his spike housing, tracing the edge and teasing it out. He got it fully extended, feeling even more revved up under Prowl's intense gaze, and the ghost sensation of warm, wet lips sucking his finger.

Prowl drew his hands to Mirage's shoulders and squeezed lightly before he let go and stood up, spike jutting out and so very obvious, so very aroused. He turned and grabbed a few blankets from his berth and laid them out on the floor. He put metallo-mesh pillows everywhere, scattering them around. It was something like a little nest, and that's all he wanted it to be. "Go lay down in the middle, slut," Prowl absently commented, dermal metal crinkling up as he tried to remember something. He slowly padded over to the small desk in his room, then pulled open one of the stainless steal drawers, reaching inside for a few objects, hand wrapped over his shaft. "And spread your legs..."

"Yes, Master," Mirage murmured, crawling over to Prowl's little make-shift nest. He laid down on his back, legs spread as Prowl had ordered. He rested his hands on his middle, watching the tactician curiously.

"I don't know why… but I have a thing for mechs in collars. Turns me on…" he said softly, padding back over to the mech on the floor. He kneeled neatly by Mirage's helm, holding out a collar with a delicate chain. He reached for Mirage's neck and gently slid it up underneath, stroking across the noble's delicate throat as he fastened it. He took the leading chain and turned, snapping the end to a clip that was discreetly hidden on his wall, just to the side of one of his cabinets. The links of the chain were small, easily breakable, and it was that way for a reason. Because, if a mech was more conscious of not pulling or attempting to break it, as it could so easily happen, the more obedient the mech was. With a smile, he shifted his legs over Mirage's chassis, presenting his spike only inches away from the noble's face. "Suck," he demanded, both hands on either side of the mech's helm. "No hands."

Mirage leaned up, taking the tip of Prowl's spike in his mouth and sucking lightly on it, teasing the slit with his glossa. He braced his elbows on the floor and leaned up as much as Prowl's position allowed. He took in more of the tactician's spike, incasing half of it in his mouth. He slid his glossa along the underside, bobbing his head and sucking loudly.

Prowl leaned up, his spike sliding farther into the depths of Mirage's mouth, and gave the chain tethering Mirage a firm pull before letting it go. "Now, my lovely mech," he murmured, "try again, this time without your mouth… just your glossa." His doorwings twitched in pleasure, and he reached behind him, thankful that the noble's body was rather slender and narrow. "I'm sure you've never yanked spike before, have you…?" he asked, face set into cold impassion, even at the most pleasurable of times. Tilting his hand, Prowl wrapped his digits around the mech's shaft, gently squeezing.

Mirage pressed his hips into the touch. "I-I have, Master." He didn't do it often though, and always in tandem with fingering his valve. It felt good rubbing his spike, but his valve was more sensitive, and he liked the stretch of something in it.

"We'll have to work on your technique sometime," Prowl murmured. He unfastened his hand before Mirage became too excited, Prowl's breathing deep and excited. "Alright now, all the way in again," he murmured, and arched his hips up, sliding to rest on his upper chassis above the noble, his hips pinioned right over his helm. The position looked similar to as if the tactician was getting ready to take it from behind. "Finger my valve too," he roughly ordered, licking his lips, optics shining in expectation. "And you'd better swallow..."

"Yes, Master." Mirage said, propping himself on one arm and leaning up, taking Prowl's spike back into his mouth. He stopped as the spike's tip touched the back of his throat and retreated slightly. He still couldn't take an entire spike and always gagged on it when he tried. He sucked firmly on it, sliding his glossa along it, teasing it. He reached up between Prowl's legs, circling the tactician's valve entrance before pressing a finger inside.

Prowl literally purred, his optics flickering off as soft noises broke from his lips. He could feel Mirage's discomfort with taking him in all the way with how the mech's throat clenched around him. He wasn't going to push it, not at all. If he did too much too soon, he might scare Mirage off. But tonight, tonight he was in one of those peculiar moods of his. "Just relax… you're sucking on a rust stick…one that's bigger than usual…" Prowl chuckled, his hips tilted upwards as an easy overload started to flood his circuits. "Alright, uhn… suck harder now…" he groaned.

Mirage added a second finger in Prowl's valve, pumping the two digits in smoothly. He sucked harder, making loud, wet noises for Prowl. He bobbed his helm on the spike, glossa sliding over the surface where it could. He gently scraped his denta along the spike base and hummed.

"Mmm..." Prowl murmured, his optics brightening as overload spread slowly through his systems. He couldn't help from denying his hips to jerk forward, lodging his spike further down Mirage's throat. Prowl's fluids emptied neatly down the noble's throat with where his spike was, not too far down, but just far enough to force him to swallow, and his hands clenched onto the blankets he had put on the floor. The mech lifted his hips up, retracting his spike—for the moment. The time in the evening would come for him to extend again… but for now. Prowl hefted his body off to the side, his hand finding the chain tethering the noble. "Come here," he muttered, motioning the mech close. "Your spike…my valve. I'm sure you can handle that, right my pretty little pleasure slave?"

"Yes, Master," Mirage said, shifting over to press against Prowl. "How do you want me, Master?" He'd never used his spike to interface before, and was actually nervous at the prospect. He reassured himself that with Prowl in control of the situation, it would turn out well.

Prowl leaned back and spread his legs, his back propped up with the cushions. "Just like this, lean your weight on me," he murmured, optics shining brightly. While he wasn't certain whether or not the mech had ever felt another's warm valve, he wanted the shy mech to experience it. The black and white mech fanned his doorwings out, relaxing. "Slow and easy, no rush...we've got all night," he said, beckoning the noble forth with his hands. "A blowjob isn't the same as a wet valve...it's nice, but a valve is just so much better..."

Mirage settled between Prowl's legs, leaning against the larger frame. He hesitantly pressed his spike tip at the entrance to Prowl's valve, slowly pressing in. He shivered at the feeling of tight, wet, warmth surrounding his spike. He moaned, burying his face in Prowl's shoulder. For several moments he stayed like that, adjusting to the sensation. It was better than being sucked off. He started up a slow rhythm, like Prowl had said. It was slightly jerky, though, due to his nervousness and inexperience.

Prowl tossed his head back and groaned, a pleased smile on his lips. "Ahh, nice..." he whispered, his hand reaching down to cup Mirage's aft, guiding his thrusts. Drawing his face down, he peppered kisses along the noble's jaw. "It feels nice, doesn't it? A valve is conformed for pleasure, unlike a mouth..." Prowl's other arm wrapped about the noble's shoulders, rubbing up and down. "I always award subordinates when they obey... remember that..."

"I will, Master," Mirage murmured. His movements started to smooth out with the reassuring touches and sounds Prowl made. His thrusts were still slow, and rather soft. His engine purred quietly at the slow build up of stimulation on his spike as it slid in and out of Prowl. He kissed along Prowl's neck, and rubbed his face under the tactician's jaw, much like a submissive animal for it's master.

Despite being the one getting it, Prowl still did very much look like he was the dominant one of the situation. Pleasure rippled through his valve, his valve walls filled with sensor nodes and sensitive workings, just like his doorwings. He encouraged Mirage to lean more of his weight down, and noted with some satisfaction as the mech became more attuned with the thrust of his hips. It had been uncomfortable at first with the jarring sensation, but now it was perfect. "Aren't you lucky, being allowed to spill your fluids inside of the second-in-command? Maybe I'll make you lick it all up after you're done. I can tell you're eager... how long have you wanted me?"

"I think... I realized I was interested in you that first morning we spoke together in the commissary. You were so confident and reassuring." Mirage's hips stuttered a moment at a thought. "I've fingered myself to overload before, imagining you taking me." He was almost embarrassed to admit it. He stroked a hand over one of Prowl's door wings, concentrating on keeping his thrusts nice and smooth for his lover.

"Mm... Maybe I'll spread you over my desk in a bit," the mech whispered, moaning softly as his doorwing was touched. He drew his hand up and smacked Mirage's aft, his hand drifting up again. Prowl curled his legs around Mirage's waist, trapping the mech between his legs. With the palm of his hand he rubbed the back of Mirage's helm, then grabbed the top part of his finial arch on his helm, forcing the mech's head back to arch his backstrut. "Good mech... a little faster now..."

Mirage bucked against Prowl, testing the firm hold the strong legs had him in. His hands clenched uselessly at the soft nest of blankets and pillows as he arched back in the hold Prowl had on his helm. He moved his hips faster, panting at the increased speed. It was uneven at first, before he found a rhythm again.

Lubricant trickled freely down his valve, and Prowl clenched his valve purposely around Mirage. Prowl's form wasn't much bigger than Mirage's own, so they fit together rather nicely. He pulled the mech's helm back again, leaning forward to kiss his throat. The blankets and metallo-mesh pillows shifted behind them from their activities, the sharp squeal of metal on metal echoing throughout the room. Jazz, his neighbor, would certainly comment about all the noises later. In fact, he was surprised that the mech hadn't already.

Mirage moaned, body hot and humming with arousal. He tilted his head, baring his neck better for Prowl's mouth. He reached unseeing for the tactician's door wing again, stroking it and keeping himself carefully propped up with only one hand over Prowl.

Prowl let go of Mirage's helm, his hands feathering around to rub over his lover's back again, teasing over his back strut. Drawing his face close to Mirage's audio, his optics flicked towards the mech's face. "I'm going to give you three options, slave. One, you can overload on my valve, not in, two, on my face, and the third option is in my mouth... You decide," he said darkly, arching his hips up whenever Mirage thrust into him. "After all, I don't want my slave's transfluid in my valve do I?" he whispered, nuzzling his face along the other noble's.

Mirage trembled, taking a moment to register Prowl's words. "Please, Master, m-may I overload in your mouth?" he asked, hips stilling.

"Sure..." Prowl murmured, his legs uncurling from Mirage's waist. Moving a hand out behind him, he settled down on his back, his doorwings fanning out. "Be careful," he murmured, motioning to the sides of him with his optics. He rested his hands easily on the mech's aft, tracing little patterns over the metal. "Remember to tell me if this gets to be too much for you," he said kindly, a smile breaking onto his face.

Mirage nodded, returning the smile with his own shyer one. He slowly pulled out of Prowl. "Master, would you... like me to lick your valve while you're, um, licking my spike?"

Prowl's lips curved up again. "Yes, I'd like that..." he murmured. All in all, it wouldn't take him that long to overload. He had been getting close already. Prowl had to remind himself several times that he had opted to keep this session nice and easy for Mirage so the mech could get used to it. Generally he was a lot tougher on others...

Mirage smiled again, pleased that Prowl liked his suggestion. He shifted around so he could duck his  
helm between Prowl's legs, hovering his own hips over Prowl's face. He lowered his head, licking Prowl's wet valve.

Prowl's hips twitched upwards and he carefully moved Mirage's knees so they didn't bump into his doorwings. The tactician parted his lips and placed a hand on Mirage's aft, pulling him down. The mech's spike slipped into his mouth with ease, and with the position, was perfect contoured to glide into his throat. So he deepthroated the noble with ease, his glossa laving all along the underside. The residual lubricant was sweet and tasty, making the conductive oils in Prowl's mouth to flow more easily. This, he thought, was how to suck spike.

Mirage moaned, a shiver running down his backstrut. He rested some of the weight of his chassis on Prowl's hips, shifting his arms and wrapping them under Prowl's legs. He placed his index fingers on the sides of Prowl's valve and pushed them in, stretching the opening and letting his glossa push in further. His glossa brushed over a sensor node, and he swirled it around the node repeatedly.

Prowl groaned, the muscle cables in his legs twitching as the pleasure assaulted him. Overload was starting to build up through him, and he stiffened as his release swept through him. He tightened his throat around his partner's spike, the oils from his mouth beading slowly down his cheek, his glossa poking and prodding at Mirage's spike in an effort to get him to overload as well. His blue optics were shut off, one hand drifting up to stroke along the very wet edge of Mirage's valve. He was certainly ready to take a spike up there...

Mirage pulled away from Prowl's valve, face wet with lubricant. He whimpered softly, tremors running through his frame as the built up energy coursing through him finally released in overload. He pressed his face against Prowl's thigh as his transfluid spilled down the tactician's throat.

Prowl swallowed the fluid expertly, simply allowing it to flow freely down into his energon tank. It was sweet and rich, making Prowl shiver in arousal all over again. He pushed up on the noble's hips, letting his spike slip out of his mouth. It took a moment for him to catch up on breath, his chassis heaving. "Get off, slave, and stand up."

Mirage lifted himself up, shifting off of Prowl. He stood up, watching Prowl with barely concealed anticipation, optics brighter than normal from his recent overload. He kept his legs slightly parted, supporting most of his weight on only one.

Prowl roused himself as well, slowly standing. "Move over to my desk, lay on your stomach, aft up in the air," he loftily commanded, his hand reaching for the wall so he could unsnap the chain that had Mirage on such a short leash. He let it fall on the floor, then padded over towards a cabinet by his berth. There was a pair of handcuffs that needed use... There was no way he was letting Mirage brace himself against his thrusts. No, they would interface right.

"Yes, Master," Mirage said, turning away from Prowl and not seeing him heading for his cabinet. Mirage walked over to the desk, laying half on it, hips pressed against the desk's edge. He rested his arms on the desk, propping himself up so he could watch Prowl.

Prowl padded back slowly, twirling the ring of the cuff around one finger, humming softly. When he was close enough, he swatted Mirage's aft with the tips of his fingers. "Good slave, your valve looks nice from this angle," Prowl murmured, and he reached down for one of Mirage's hands, snapping the cuff around it. He shoved his interface panel against Mirage's, pushing his head down with one hand, and then reached for his other hand. "Relax or this position will hurt," he warned, drawing up the mech's other hand to bind into the cuffs. It forced Mirage flat against the desk, really unable to do anything.

Mirage rested his cheek against the desk, aft stuck in the air, arms pulled back. He was completely helpless to Prowl. Primus help him, but his vulnerability just made him more aroused. He parted his legs more, pressing his aft back against Prowl.

"Now this will work better," Prowl growled, his hand reaching up to grasp the finial that was the arch on top of Mirage's helm. He pulled the mech's helm back, forcing him to arch his backstrut. "You like that, whore?"

"Y-yes, Master," Mirage said. The position was a little uncomfortable, muscle cables tensing with the angle, but not too bothersome, and not something to interrupt Prowl for. "Please, Master, I want you inside me." Mirage ground back against Prowl again for emphasis.

Prowl gently let Mirage's helm rest back against the desk. If he just let go the mech would probably crack his head. "Of course you do..." he murmured, lightly tracing his hand along the mech's backstrut. He slapped his hand against Mirage's aft again, then extended his spike. Mirage should've been lubricated enough to take him without problem or preparation. Lining his spike up, he nudged his head against the lip of Mirage's valve, then thrust his hips forward, not stopping until he was all the way inside, their hips clanging together.

Mirage cried out, bucking against Prowl as he slid forward on the desk. His hands twitched in the cuffs. He was well lubricated from their activities and it was an easy stretch. "Oh... Master," he moaned in pleasure at finally being filled by Prowl's spike. This was how he loved interface best. Granted, the restraints were a new feature, but otherwise on par with his preferences.

Prowl's optics flared and he drove his hips farther forward, and he smirked when the back of his desk knocked into the wall, creating an echoing sound. While he would've been mortified if it was someone's room across the way he didn't know, it was only Jazz, and they'd been having these competitions for as long as he could remember. With that in mind, Prowl canted his hips back and drew his spike out, completely, then thrust forward again, slamming himself back into Mirage. "Are you making it," he paused and snapped his hips forward again, "your goal to 'face every single mech here on base? Who's next on your list? Jazz? Prime?" With each mech's name he said, he tilted his hips to a different angle so his spike could stimulate a different side of Mirage's valve.

Mirage was jarred with every thrust, unable to brace himself against each plunge of Prowl's spike, and not even wanting to anyway. "N-no, Master. I just- ah! I likethem. They're nice to... to me." Mirage struggled with almost every word, battling with coherence at the relentless thrusts.

"Hm. I'll bet they are nice," he groaned, his hands gripping tightly around Mirage's hips as the noble's valve clenched around him. He could hear the soft pit patof Mirage's lubricant being forced out of his valve with each thrust. Prowl was aiming to hit the top of his valve in overload so his fluid got into Mirage's reproductive tank so he could really feel it. "A mech would only have to 'face you once to be addicted to this pleasure...that and you make such a good sub..." he murmured, starting a strong rolling motion with his hips. Prowl reached up and pulled on Mirage's helm again, making him arch his backstrut. "Should have a mech in front so you can put your mouth to use..."

Mirage whimpered, remembering his first night in the base, caught between Ironhide and Ratchet. If he hadn't been in such a pleasured haze, he would have thought about what he said next. "Yes, Master, anyone you want." He swallowed reflexively, imagining being trapped and held between two lovers, having a spike in him on either end.

He shuttered his optics, feeling the relentless jabbing of Prowl's spike at justthe right angle... Mirage trembled, letting out a static laced wail of pleasure, valve clamping down on Prowl's spike.

Prowl cursed under his breath, still driving his hips forward into Mirage's perfectvalve. His fingers stiffened and he had all he could do to slowly lower Mirage's helm as the beginnings of his overload tore through him. Roughly he scrabbled his hands to the noble's shoulders and pulled him down on his spike, thrusting up at just the right moment, and poured out his pleasure in Mirage's valve, hot and sticky. "Primus!" he gasped in surprise, alarmed at the quick overload. His thrusts shortened, just sharp snaps of his hips, making sure that Mirage's valve milked him of all his fluids.

Mirage moaned, feeling the spreading warmth of over-stimulation and Prowl's hot transfluid deep inside him. His shoulders twitched with each short thrust, fans whirring excitedly to cool him down from his overload.

Prowl stopped when he was completely finished and retracted his hypersensitive spike from Mirage's valve. The mech did wonders, obviously. As he moved away, he pressed three fingers in Mirage's opening, stemming the flow of lubricant and transfluid leaking back out. The white and black mech flared his doorwings, smiling brightly. A plug appeared in his hands, a big one, and he spread the noble farther open with his fingers, then pressed that plug in, containing the fluids within. He doubted it would take Mirage long to become so aroused all over again with the feel of everything inside him. He uncuffed Mirage, letting the mech have his hands. "We're going to have lots of fun tonight...I'm going to make sure you never forget me..."


	9. Sweet Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Sweet Morning  
> Authors: vectorsigma3441 as Prowl, diamondunicorn (LJ) as Bluestreak  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Characters/Pairings: Prowl, Bluestreak  
> Series: G1, AU (but mostly AU)  
> Warnings: Slash, explicit sex, incest

There was something nagging at his senses -- like an annoying itch he couldn't quite scratch, or was too lazy to. It was a pleasurable little itch, and every few moments he would feel a surge through his frame. But then, Prowl knew when he was recharging, and he was, but his mind was a bit too sluggish to connect everything. A dream was developing in his lucid processor. Mirage, his panel open, legs spread while he masturbated, fingering himself with one's own knowing touch. Prowl groaned, and his optics flashed on, pleasure searing through his frame. With a shout, he overloaded, his transfluid emptying down the mouth around his spike. Prowl laid back, his hand searching underneath the blanket for the mech that had been pleasuring him in his sleep. "Primus," he breathed, his frame quivering in afterglow.

The mouth left Prowl's spike, a hand taking his to hold it. Lips wrapped around two of Prowl's fingertips, sucking while a glossa swirled around them, just as he'd trained it. The glossa gave a parting lick, fingers twining with Prowl's. The mouth latched back onto the tactician's spike, deep throating without effort, humming a soft tune as the covers over Prowl's body bobbed with the mech's movement.

Prowl seized those shoulders from underneath the blanket and he arched up, his spike sliding farther back into the mouth sucking on him. He thrust upwards, hips pumping up and down. He could tell the mech's identity from the way his body was from under the blankets, and it made Prowl groan in pleasure. "Ohh...you're so good to me...waking me up with head in the morning," Prowl groaned, his helm tilting to the side as his hands curled around the mech's helm so he could more easily thrust into that sweet sweet mouth.

If his mouth weren't otherwise occupied, the other mech would have smiled. Instead he continued his attentions. Fingers rubbed circles in the seams of one of Prowl's thighs, the other set of fingertips playfully wriggling at the very entrance of Prowl's valve. The throat's humming got louder as a finger pressed inside, sliding back and forth in rhythm with the tune that he was humming, some little ditty he'd enjoyed as a youngling.

Certainly against such an assault, Prowl wouldn't last long, and he didn't. His backstrut arched fully off of the berth as he overloaded again, pleasure ripping through him until he choked up and could make no more noises. He rested heavily against the berth, and he removed his hands, drawing them down around to make sure none of his fluid had leaked out from the hot mouth around him. "Mm...good blowjob..." he murmured, retracting his spike. Prowl's fingers drew at the corner of the blanket, tossing it to the side, revealing the form of his youngest brother. "Blue..." he said, resting back on the berth.

Bluestreak smiled cheekily, climbing up and curling into Prowl's frame. He wiggled in close, one hand resting over Prowl's chassis while he wrapped one of Prowl's leg with his own. "Morning, Prowl. Have a nice recharge?" He kissed his oldest brother's cheek, doorwings fluttering a bit in their characteristically animated way.

Prowl's features turned curious, but he leaned to the side and pressed his lips to his brother's. "Mm, yes, though waking up was admittedly better than the recharge..." he murmured. He turned onto his side, tucking his doorwings appropriately, and wrapped his arms around Bluestreak's chassis. He reached a hand down to his waist and pulled a small box out of candies from his subspace cache. The tactician pried the lid open with one hand and set them to the side, then pressed a rust treat to Bluestreak's lips. They had oil in the middle for extra flavor. "Where's Smokescreen?" he asked.

Bluestreak's optics lit up at the sight of the candy, nipping lightly at Prowl's fingertips as he took it in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully on the candy, savoring the treat before swallowing. "I think he spent the night with Blaster and Tracks. He probably won't be up for a while knowing how those two are."

Prowl reached around and stroked at Bluestreak's doorwings, pressing his hips closer. "Hm, I suppose not," Prowl murmured, one hand trailing down to tease along Bluestreak's backstrut, circling around his hips to reach between his legs at a hot panel. "I bet you're wet, aren't you?" he murmured, kissing underneath his brother's jaw. It was the biggest secret he held, that he loved both of his brothers in this way... That he was intimate with both of them.

Bluestreak squirmed under Prowl's touch and nuzzled under his chin. "Uh huh," he said, panel clicking open. "Can you help me with it?" Knowing fingers trailed up Prow's backstrut, playing with the joints of his doorwings.

Prowl rolled over onto his brother, curling his arms around the mech's helm. He parted Bluestreak's legs with a knee, positioning them out until he could slip his frame in between. He leaned down and kissed his brother's lips, a thinly concealed smile on his face. Being the eldest brother had its perks, mainly usually being able to direct their activities when like this. Prowl extended his spike and leaned forward, sliding his spike up inside Bluestreak's valve with a soft gasp. Their chassis rubbed together, causing the tactician to groan. He nibbled on his brother's jaw, glossa smearing his oral fluids around. "Mmm...you're tight..." Prowl noted, thrusting his hips in a long circular motion. "You need to be 'faced more."

Bluestreak cooed happily at being filled by Prowl's spike, rocking with his brother's motions. "But you like me tight," he teased. He lifted a hand up, sliding his fingers over Prowl's chevron. He wrapped a leg around Prowl's waist, while he reached behind Prowl with his unoccupied hand to fondle a door wing. He moaned happily as he achieved a new angle that allowed Prowl's thrusts deeper inside him. He kissed and nuzzled into Prowl's neck, happily riding out his older brother's movements.

"Of course...don't want you loose like some strung-out whore," Prowl muttered, his pace starting to increase as Bluestreak's stiff valve was worked into pliability. After a moment he became frustrated at the position, then slipped his spike out of Bluestreak's valve and sat up. He moved over to the side, then laid back down, turning over on his side. He grabbed Bluestreak's doorwing and pulled him so he was facing away, his back to Prowl's chassis. The tactician kissed the back of his brother's neck, his hand probing down to spread the little mech's legs, then the black and white mech angled his hips down, crossing one leg over Bluestreak's bottom one, and pressed his spike up inside of his brother again, thrusting into him from his lazy position behind. "Mm, push your aft back, I'm nearly missing," he murmured.

Bluestreak did so, rocking back and forth against Prowl. "That better?" He reached back, pulling Prowl's arm over so he could hold his hand. He pressed his body back against Prowl, fidgeting a bit.

"Yesss..." Prowl groaned in Bluestreak's audio, thrusting his hips forward, his spike sliding in and out at the unique, and not often done angle. "Mm, what was the reason for this visit? I know you don't just give me oral in the morning unless you're trying to sweeten me up..." the noble muttered, his hand trailing down to reach for Bluestreak's spike housing. He teased around the edges, pinching at the barely concealed head.

Bluestreak bucked into Prowl's hand, smiling impishly. "Guess- ah! I can't keep anything from you." He sighed in relief as his spike slid out for Prowl. "I was, um curious about,,, mmm, something. You've been seeing Mirage, think you're gonna invite him to play with us? He looks fun." Bluestreak could still remember watching Mirage from over Smokescreen's shoulder while being 'faced into a wall. It had been a great sight, watching Mirage being held in Ratchet's lap, having a toy sliding in and out of his valve. And the way he'd whimpered and squirmed like it was his first time while trying to hide from all the lustful gazes on him had been cute.

Prowl paused, his spike slipping mostly out of Bluestreak's valve. He wrapped his digits around his brother's spike and began pumping it, his hand sliding up and down. His thumb massaged the tip, playing in the slit, and he started thrusting his hips again, sliding his spike up in Bluestreak's valve. "I couldn't say," he said lazily, pinching the end of Bluestreak's spike for the added thrill. "He might not be the best choice to have play with us."

Bluestreak moaned, thrusting into Prowl's hand and back onto the spike inside him. He rolled his helm back on Prowl's shoulder, offlining his optics to concentrate on the feel of the two sources of pleasure. "How come?" he asked. He tilted his head, nuzzling and kissing what he could reach of his brother's face.

"Mm, because I haven't told him about us... I don't know what his reaction would be. He's another noble, after all. He might uhnn find it repulsive," Prowl smoothly replied, his hips angled far under Bluestreak's pelvic unit. He let go of Bluestreak's spike for the moment and reached down to gather some of the lubricant that had leaked out of his brother's valve, then brought his hand back up to smear it over the mech's spike. A little less friction would make it much more pleasant. Prowl sighed as the valve around him quivered, sending delicious sensations from the ribbing onto the ridges of his spike. They were truly compatible as lovers. "Mm, should have Smokescreen here to suck your spike... the slut..."

"Ooh, yes. Love being double teamed by you two," Bluestreak said, starting to pant and whimper at the slickened glide of Prowl's hand over his spike and the increasing pleasure in his valve. He suddenly giggled. "Wonder if he remembers seeing me and Smokey when he was at the orgy. 'Though he seemed too busy getting his circuits fried by Ratchet."

Prowl's optics flared darkly, and he jerked his hips up harder, his motion faster. "I hope not, you two shouldn't have been there doing that in the first place. You'll give others the wrong idea...or maybe the right one," Prowl muttered, suddenly defensive. "Yes, Ratchet seems to have his fingers in everyone's interface at some point in his, or their career. Slagger," he said, almost in a pout.

Bluestreak grunted at the hard thrust, rolling his hips with new pace. "Aw, don't be jealous. I have it on good authority that Mirage has been visiting Ratchet less since your date. Besides, he really likes you, least that's what Ironhide told me." Bluestreak's hips rocked faster with Prowl's, feeling a tingling heat rising in his own frame. He squirmed in Prowl's arms, gasping as he overloaded, bucking against his brother.

Prowl groaned as his brother overloaded, and he felt Bluestreak's warm transmetal fluid spill onto his hand. With that valve constricted around him, Prowl let out a hoarse yell as he overloaded again, his fluids emptying up in his brother's valve as he drove himself in deep. It wasn't much for fluids, because of his previous two overloads, and once he was finished, he drew his hypersensitive spike out, retracted it, and flopped over on his back. "Primus," he groaned, then brought his hand up and started cleaning it of fluid, languidly licking at his joints and servos.

Bluestreak curled back over against Prowl, engine purring in contentment. He leaned over and licked at Prowl's hand with small swipes of his glossa, helping clean it of his own fluids. "We taste good together," he said, grinning up at Prowl.

"Indeed," Prowl said, a smile blossoming onto his face. He whirled himself over on top of his brother again, straddling his waist. "We still have a little time to play…I wanna touch your spike," he said, this time reaching back to draw the blanket over his own frame.


	10. Sweet Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ironhide gives Ratchet a good fuck after a long day's work, and Ratchet confesses one of his innermost desires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Sweet Confession  
> Authors: vectorsigma3441 as Ratchet, diamondunicorn as Ironhide  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Characters/Pairings: Ratchet/Ironhide  
> Summary: Ironhide gives Ratchet a good fuck after a long day's work, and Ratchet confesses one of his innermost desires. Please leave a review!  
> Series: G1, AU (but mostly AU)  
> Warnings: Slash, explicit sex, oral

Another long, long day.

Ratchet rubbed at his chin while he looked over some charts. Medical charts that was, all containing data that was correlated to his patient. Sideswipe was dormant on the berth in front of him, deep in stasis lock. The medic shook his head and clipped the board back to the foot of the mech's berth and stood up, checking him over one last time. He knew there was nothing he could do, but he obsessed over it. He knew Prime was anxious, and wanted to know his bondmate's condition. It wasn't... too bad. Sideswipe would pull through, but whatever other residual damage there would be, he wasn't sure.

Sighing, the CMO turned away and walked over to the sink, his shoulders sagging. He washed his arms and hands of mechblood, and scrubbed off what he could on his chassis. He exited the little private room he was keeping the toughline in and locked the door for added safety. The rest of the medbay was fortunately empty, and the floors had been mopped and cleaned. A tough battle, that was for sure...

Stepping forth, Ratchet moved into his office which was connected to the medbay. It was rather big, and held a nice shelf of datapads on medical items, along with his stash of med-grade. He wasn't supposed to take it, but every now and again he felt the need to get very drunk, very quickly. He debated it for awhile, but eventually decided against it. Instead he put his arms on the table, then rested his helm on them.

He stayed like that for several long minutes. The office door quietly swished open, the large red frame of Ironhide stepping in. He frowned at the sight of his despondent looking mate, feeling a stab of sympathy pain at the medic's state. He walked over, laying a hand on Ratchet's shoulder. "How's Sides doin'?"

Ratchet took Ironhide's hand in his, rubbing it on his helm. "He'll be alright.. I think...I couldn't tell what other damage he might have besides the physical wounds. His cpu was cracked..." the medic murmured, a bit of irritability working up into his systems. He shifted in his chair, turning closer to Ironhide. "Did you just get off shift?"

"Yeah. You holding up alright?" Ironhide knew how hard close calls like this was for Ratchet. Every life was precious to him, and he had a lot of care and concern for the soldiers he patched up. It was hard to watch the pain every loss and near loss of life caused Ratchet, and harder for Ironhide knowing that he was a contributor to that pain.

"Yeah, I'll be fine...it's my job to put up with idiots like Sideswipe," Ratchet said in reply, chuckling a little bit. He turned his helm and regarded Ironhide with a cool blue optic. "I'm surprised you're not already sleeping or drunk. What's the occasion?" he said shortly, glaring at his mate. Of course Ironhide was neither of those things all of the time, but that didn't mean Ratchet couldn't rib him for it.

"Someone's gotta make sure ya ain't worrying yourself to death," Ironhide replied, smirking. He rubbed lightly over Ratchet's helm, thumb brushing the edge of the medic's chevron. "Or getting your own sorry aft drunk."

"Yes but, my aft is much more attractive than yours, my dear old partner," Ratchet murmured, smirking back. He swatted Ironhide's hand away from his helm. His chevron was ticklish and irksome. It did wonders to put him in the mood, but it also annoyed him greatly. "And I'm not worrying. I'm just concerned and trying to remember everything I know about cpu damage. It's hard to recall these things," the CMO replied, brushing his mate off as he stood up. "Go sleep in our quarters, I'll be there shortly."

"You've done enough for today, Ratch'. You've been working since early this morning and now almost everyone besides us is probably recharging. Even Prowl's gone to his quarters for rest." Granted, that was through the combined efforts of Mirage and Bluestreak needling him until he'd finally relented. Stubborn aft had probably carried his work in there and was working in his room even now, but Ratchet didn't need to know that. "Besides, 'I'll be there shortly' last time translated to 'almost time for my next shift'."

Ratchet growled and shook his head. "I know, I know," he said, waving his arms as he strode out of his office into his medbay. "I'm a medic. I'm perfectly capable of doing this all by myself, and if I don't, I know how to deal with it," Ratchet said, brushing Ironhide's concern off. It was one of his pet peeves when someone else told him to quit worrying and call it a night. He knew he had to call it a night, but there was no way in the pit he'd ever quit... worrying about his patients. He was the one caring for them after all, and in this profession, Ratchet had trained to stay awake for long periods of time. "There's just a few books I want to check over to make sure I've got everything... correct," he muttered, striding over to the console of teletraan that was in the medbay. He activated it and started typing a few things in. "Just this one thing..." he murmured.

Ironhide snatched up his hand, twisting Ratchet around and pushing him against the wall. Ironhide kept him still using his superior strength, pressing his body close. "Is this really an injury that can't wait? Will Sideswipe be permanently effected if you don't figure out what could be wrong with him right now? 'Cause if it ain't, I say you take a break and get some rest now."

"Possibly," Ratchet snapped back, glaring at Ironhide. "I couldn't say, since you won't let me read the damn monitor!" he said loudly, jerking his hand away. They always bickered like this. It was nothing unusual, but it still upset Ratchet. "Please Ironhide... give me... half an hour." The medic smirked, rubbing his chassis against that of his mate's. "I'll give you a nice blowjob..." he bargained.

Ironhide leaned in close, venting warm air over Ratchet's face before reluctantly backing off. He was tempted to drag Ratchet off, but he knew there'd be Pit to pay if Sideswipe had something wrong that needed urgent attention. From Ratchet, Optimus, and Sunstreaker. "Guess I can't argue with that. But if you're staying, then so'm I. I'm not giving you the chance to stay up all night."

"Fine," Ratchet sniped back at Ironhide, brushing close to Ironhide so he could reach the monitor again. He pulled out a stool and mindlessly scrolled through the screens, wondering why the authors of the text couldn't have somehow made it easier on everyone by putting the characteristics of cpu maladies in a more search friendly format. Case studies too, for that matter. All of it was so disorganized and he was sure it was from the years of editing he'd put into the documents over his career. It would've probably been wise to move everything around into its correct format. As the short time he was given passed, Ratchet steadily grew more frustrated and bleary optic'd from staring at the screen. It really was getting him nowhere.

Heavy hands fell on his shoulders, Ironhide leaning in close. "Your half hour's up. Gonna come back to our berth now?"

Ratchet was startled by it. He shivered and looked up, "Uhm, yeah in a few minutes here," the medic said, already right back to the computer screen. "Go warm the shower water for me, hm?" he murmured, stretching a bit before he gazed back at teletraan's screen.

The hands slid down, wrapping around Ratchet's chassis and pulled him back from the computer. "As I just said, your time's up. You can come with me willingly, or I carry you off. Which do ya want?"

Ratchet wiggled around, but he gave up. "I'd rather you not bust a strut carrying me," he said, nearly tripping over the stool as Ironhide tugged on him. "Yeah yeah, I'm coming," he muttered, shrugging his shoulder. Ratchet logged out of the computer and pushed his stool away, breaking free from Ironhide so he could shut the main medbay lights off. The dimmer ones were still on, but it was clear the place was empty for the rest of the night. It was only another few steps away to their quarter doors, located in the medbay too. Ratchet typed in the code and the thick door opened, admitting him and Ironhide. He flicked the lights on and sighed at the mess their quarters was in. "Remind me...next punishment detail is cleaning this mess up."

Ironhide made a low sound of acknowledgment, ushering Ratchet into their quarters. A sly smile formed on his lips as the door closed. "I recall an offer of sucking my spike," he murmured, optics glinting. His interface cover clicked open, spike nestled inside it's sheathe.

Ratchet waved him off, stepping forward. He paused near the door of the shower, glancing back. "I'm not in the mood...though I'm sure your hand is," he said meanly, striding into the shower. He stepped up inside the shower rack itself, shivering as the cool water sprayed onto his plating. He hated cold water. Ratchet reached for a bottle of cleanser and a sponge, pouring a generous amount on it to begin washing up.

Ironhide's optics narrowed on the retreating figure. Slowly he walked over to a chest by their berth, listening to Ratchet wash up. He opened up the chest and pulled out a set of handcuffs. He chuckled to himself as he walked over to lean against the wall right outside the shower entrance, quietly waiting for Ratchet to step out.

Ratchet took his sweet time, getting all the cracks of his armor for a thorough cleaning he hardly ever indulged in. After another twenty minutes or so he stepped out into the other part of the shower racks, cleaning off the water from him while simultaneously buffing a coat of wax onto his plating. The wax usually helped whisk some of the mechblood of him during the day's events. Which was nice, because mechblood was sticky and sometimes hard to get off. Ratchet finished waxing and drying off, which took plenty more time, and then stepped out back into the main room, expecting Ironhide to be sleeping. Instead, he nearly jumped when he noticed the mech by the door. "What?" he asked sharply.

Ironhide grinned, keeping the cuffs out of Ratchet's sight. "Mm, nothin'." He walked over to Ratchet, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. He clicked a cuff onto one wrist, wrenching it together with the other and cuffing them together in front of Ratchet. "Just waitin' for you," he teased, smile downright devious.

Ratchet's face turned down and he froze up, jerking his arms apart, but the cuffs held tight. "Is that right?" Ratchet replied, his voice deadpan. Ratchet drew himself closer. "And what are you going to do to me now that you have me?" he wondered, rubbing his palm on Ironhide's stomach plating. "Have your nasty way with me?"

Ironhide's engine growled in anticipation. "Oh yes. You've been a bad mech today. Breaking promises, talking nasty, neglecting yourself. You need a lesson in good behavior." Ironhide pushed him back onto their berth, optics darkening at having Ratchet splayed and cuffed on his back.

"I never promised I'd do anything," Ratchet snorted indignantly, scooting back on the berth as he tried as best he could to move with his arms tethered. "You just seem to assume too much. It's too late to have sex anyways, I'm tired and I want to sleep," the medic continued, half torn between transforming his wrist into a saw and cutting the bonds off or letting Ironhide go on with his little charade.

Ironhide chuckled. He grabbed Ratchet's bound wrists and pulled them above his head. "That's funny coming from someone who was gonna stay up half the night anyway." He kneeled between Ratchet's legs, fingering the joint between his mate's thigh and hip.

"Actually I was planning on staying up the entire night. I've got some good midgrade in the 'bay. Put some additives in that stuff and I could be up for days at a time," Ratchet murmured, spreading his legs a bit wider for Ironhide. "But honestly if you want me to suck your spike I will. I was just teasing you earlier," he said, waggling his glossa at his mate.

"Mm, that would be a good start." Ironhide moved up Ratchet's body, keeping a hand on his wrists still. He settled his hips above his mate's mouth, the tip of his spike peeking out from its sheathe.

Ratchet chuckled, his wet glossa poking out of his lips. He clutched at Ironhide's forearm with his tethered hands as he licked the tip of his mate's spike, his glossa probing the slit. He was proud of Ironhide's big spike, and he loved it dearly. "Mm," he hummed, moving his glossa to trace the outside rim of Ironhide's spike housing, and along the small edge of the spike's head which showed. "You're aroused...care to share why?" the medic asked, shifting a bit lower to tickle the rim of his valve with his glossa. Ratchet fixed his lips around Ironhide's spike, sucking gently, and allowing it so his mate could extend right into his mouth.

"Was imagining that talented glossa on my spike, and how nice you look under me with your hands bound." Ironhide's spike extended under Ratchet's attentions and he thrust it forward, down Ratchet's throat tubing. He moaned, grinning tightly. "Frag yeah, this is a good place for you, under me sucking my spike."

Ratchet choked, tensing up under Ironhide as his vents flapped on his chassis. A few small coughs and he was fine, his own oral fluids streaming down his cheeks. Ironhide was being a bit rough. 'Watch it!' he snarled over their bond, his optics flaring as he stared at the gray plating above Ironhide's red colored hips. Ratchet rubbed his glossa over Ironhide's shaft. 'I am not in the mood to fix my own throat tubing!'

Ironhide pulled back a bit, giving Ratchet some room. He rubbed the red hands in his, almost apologetically, and aiming for the spots he knew to be especially sensitive.

Ratchet groaned. His hands were extremely sensitive as his work from a medic, and they were more tender and sore than usual because of his day's work. It was like his hotspot, and he could remember so many times when his mate had only had to tease and suck on his hands and he'd gotten off from it. It was amazing. The heat always built slow, and the feeling of his valve clenching in on itself was ... indescribable. Ratchet bobbed his head up, taking his mate's spike all the way down again before he tilted his helm back until only the tip remained. Ratchet sucked greedily on it, his optics off.

"Mm, yeah, that's good," Ironhide groaned, the arm supporting him above Ratchet trembling slightly. He kept massaging Ratchet hands with his other, squeezing them for a moment. He rubbed his thumb over a joint, gently scratching it.

Ratchet shifted his legs up so they were generously spread. He wiggled his hips, his valve clenching. He jerked his hands down, whining as he slurped messily at Ironhide's spike. Perhaps this was what he'd needed in the first place. A good, hard interface. Ratchet clenched his throat tubing, his lips stretched attractively over Ironhide as he sucked hard at him. Normally he liked to play Ironhide up. Make the mech sit in a chair while he'd go on his knees, tease all of his plating, give a few licks to the mech's spike every so often, then start sucking until Ironhide's hot cum was in his mouth. Ratchet groaned at the thought.

Ironhide was panting, optics bright with the rush of energon in his fuel lines. He tweaked a wire in Ratchet's wrist, tugging at it gently. "You're so hot like this, Ratch'," Ironhide said, vocalizer rough with lust and a hint of static. He watched Ratchet, almost wanting to pull out, shove his spike inside Ratchet's valve and plunder those lips with his own. He reassured himself that there'd still be plenty of time and energy left between them for that as well.

Ratchet moaned in agreement, clenching his hands until they were fully closed. He wanted this to be all about Ironhide, and all about his lover's pleasure. 'Let me service you,' he murmured over the bond. Again he lowered his head until only the tip of Ironhide's spike was between his lips and he prodded at the slit again, stiffening his glossa as he licked up and down, sucking and kissing at the hot metal. Then he thrust his helm back up until his mate's spike was down the back of his throat, where he began working around it, swallowing.

Ironhide's engine rumbled and he lowered himself onto his elbows, hips still hovering over Ratchet's face. "Mm, Ratch', you're so good to me." He shuttered his optics, savoring the feeling of a warm mouth and glossa moving over his spike, and concentrating on keeping control of himself so he didn't thrust too hard into Ratchet's mouth.

Ratchet laughed, but it was muffled from Ironhide's spike, he leaned back until Ironhide's spike was out of his mouth and he took in a few deep breaths. Ratchet moved his face up and kissed along the thick shaft, tracing the ridges with his glossa. "Mmm, I'd love to give you a hand job until you cum, then smear it all over the glass on your chassis," he said out loud, rubbing his lubricant smeared cheek against that lovely spike before him. "Give me a facial... please?" Ratchet asked.

Ironhide smiled, leaning back and taking his spike in hand. He stroked up and down the shaft, gaze fixated on Ratchet's face. "You're such a slut for my fluids, aren't you?" he teased, pumping his hand faster. His grip tightened and he groaned as he finally overloaded. He bucked his hips into his hand, transfluid splattering across Ratchet's face. He let go of his spike, cupping his mate's cheek and smearing the fluids on it with his thumb.

Ratchet moaned, arching his hips up at the feel of the hot cum on his face. He batted Ironhide's hand away with his forearm. "Leave it," he husked, blue optics dark. "You know how much I love your transfluid," Ratchet murmured, smiling, a sticky string of fluid connected from his top lip to his bottom. "Good mech," he murmured, leaning up a bit to lick the quivering tip of Ironhide's spike.

Ironhide chuckled, sliding down Ratchet's body until their frames were flush against each other. He kissed Ratchet, tasting himself on the medic's lips. He reached a hand down, teasing the entrance of Ratchet's valve with two fingers.

Ratchet squirmed, his voice breathy as he moaned against Ironhide's lips, taking the opportunity to rub his face on the other mech's cheek to share some of the cooling fluid. "You're sure you're up to this... old mech?"

Ironhide's optics narrowed in challenge, thrusting a finger inside Ratchet. "No problems here," he replied, lightly stroking a sensor node. "You know I can satisfy you better than any of those cute little mechs that cross your path."

Ratchet turned his helm to the side, his mouth opened in a small 'o' shape. "Ahh, can you still? You're getting old Ironhide...so am I for that matter...can't bend quite like you used to, eh? Can't give it to me like you used to...Besides, I'm quite fond of all the virgins I get to have..." he teased.

Ironhide jammed in another finger, twisting them. "That so? A virgin's nice for their valve, but if you want someone to 'face you 'till you can't see straight, ya need a mech like me." He pulled his fingers out, positioning his spike at Ratchet's entrance, pressing just the tip in. "A thick spike and vorns of experience. Can you imagine one of your little playmates doing this for you?" He thrust in, seating his entire spike in Ratchet's valve. He slowly drew out, then thrust back in again. "Too small to fill you like me, not strong enough, or confident enough, to give it to you like me. And sure as Pit ain't experienced enough to know what you need."

Ratchet moaned, his entire frame lurching as Ironhide penetrated him. "That's right...I'd have to move up to Prime," he chuckled. "And somehow I don't think the twins would want to share..." Ratchet drew his legs up, trapping his mate's hips between his thighs. It felt good to be on his back, taking it in the most true and simple method. He wound his arms around Ironhide's neck, kissing his mouth. "You're right though," he whispered, "I'd rather take it from you, and give to you... Suppose that's why I mated you for life," he chuckled. He wanted to bond with Ironhide, but if the mech came in his valve, there was a very great possibility Ratchet himself could end up with spark.

Ironhide rumbled wordlessly in agreement. He ducked his head, biting and kissing along Ratchet's neck cables. "Not many I'd take it in the valve for, really. You're one of the only mechs I enjoy it from," Ironhide admitted as he increased his pace. He grabbed at Ratchet's hip, holding it up to drive his spike in deeper. He groaned, shivering in satisfaction at the new angle.

Ratchet moved his hips up with Ironhide's hands, arching and rolling his back as Ironhide thrust into him. "When you cum in me, you're going to eat me out," Ratchet said, more of an order, as his dermal metal was scrunched up, his optics off. His valve was very lubricated from his arousal with sucking Ironhide's spike. Ratchet purposely clenched his valve around Ironhide, tensing himself to make his passage tighter. He could feel the ridges on his lover's spike better, causing him to gasp.

Ironhide bucked into the tightened valve, hissing through clenched dental plating. "Only if I'm not tempted to leave you cuffed and filthy," Ironhide replied, licking up Ratchet's neck.

"Ha! You wouldn't dare leave me... I've got a shift in... five hours," Ratchet said. "What if my patients saw me covered in your cum? I'd never live it down..." he chuckled. Ratchet nibbled on the side of Ironhide's helm, smearing more of Ironhide's transfluid on himself. The sickly sweet smell was recognizable anywhere, and it always turned him on. But...he was almost certain that Ironhide was leaving for a while the next day. A mission of some kind... or perhaps as an escort to Optimus. "Just -uhnn- where are you going tomorrow?" he asked. It really wasn't his thing to make small talk during sex, but he couldn't resist.

"Going with Optimus to this neutral settlement. Decepticon activity has been increasing around the area and he wants to try and talk them into coming to the city. They're scared of being attacked in Autobot territory, but it's better than staying out there. They've got practically no way to defend themselves." Ironhide changed his angle, hitting a new spot in Ratchet's valve and pressing harder onto an internal sensor node.

"Ah, I ahhh see," Ratchet replied, knowing already what deplorable conditions the neutrals could be in. Sometimes he'd wished he'd never given up his private practice for the Autobots. Now he was only allowed to treat other Autobots, unless otherwise ordered. Ratchet suddenly mewled, his hands cupping the back of Ironhide's neck as he thrust his hips up against Ironhide, overloading. Oh it felt so good overloading to his bondmate, and a gush of lubricant leaked from his valve as he clenched impossibly tight around his lover, giving small spasms. Another gush of lubricant leaked from him, staining the berth below with a puddle of fluids.

Ironhide growled, tensing up and thrusting several last times into Ratchet and overloading. Warm transfluid filled Ratchet's valve, some seeping out and joining the fluids around his aft. Ironhide gradually relaxed, kissing Ratchet and smiling affectionately at his mate.

Ratchet smiled back, drawing a finger up to his face to wipe up some of transfluid. It was cold and oily textured, but he pressed it to his lips, licking at it. He'd made a vow a long time ago to never waste any of the precious fluids if it could be helped. He knew it turned Ironhide on to know how much Ratchet had a fetish for it. The medic smiled cheekily. "I won't make you eat me out if you don't want to...We both probably should get some rest," the CMO admitted, his optics flaring. "But as soon as you get back, you're going to eat me out and not complain."

Ironhide's optics flared for a moment, watching Ratchet licking up the transfluid on his face. "Mm, 'course not, love." He tugged on Ratchet's wrists, pulling them closer and opening the cuffs. "For now though, I will get us something to clean up with. Be right back," he said, kissing Ratchet's cheek and getting up to grab some wash rags from their shower room.

"Yeah, since you got transmetal fluid all over on my fresh coat of wax!" Ratchet said to the mech's retreating back. Ratchet stayed relaxed upon the berth, his legs parted and open as lubricant and transmetal fluid leaked from his valve. "Get one for the berth too, I made a mess!" he added.

There was a guffaw from the shower room as Ironhide rummaged for cleaning supplies. He came back with several washing cloths and a bottle of cleaning solution. He added the solution to a rag and wiped the berth off first. He tossed it aside and used another to clean himself and Ratchet up. He tossed them back in the shower room to be cleaned later when he or his mate had the energy to bother.

He laid down, pulling Ratchet close and holding him. "Gonna miss ya while I'm away," he murmured, kissing the side of Ratchet's helm.

Ratchet murmured a noise of agreement. "Yeah, I'll miss you too..." he replied, snuggling close to his mate. After a moment, he spoke again. "You know...I know this isn't the best time...But I was actually kind of wondering if we could try for a sparkling soon?" he whispered, his hand balling into a fist from where he was resting it against Ironhide's back.

"Coddling Mirage ain't enough anymore?" Ironhide teased. He stroked a hand up and down Ratchet's backstrut in a soothing motion. "I don't know if it's a good idea for us to be having a sparkling in the middle of a war... Can't deny that it sounds nice, though. 'Specially in hard times like this. It'd be good to have something cute an' innocent running around, something that's a part of both of us."

"Yeah...I just... Yeah..." Ratchet murmured, pressing his helm into Ironhide's neck. "And Mirage isn't a sparkling, he's a full grown mech," Ratchet muttered, blowing hot air out of his mouth. "Sorry...it was just a bit of a greedy thought of mine..." he murmured, put out.

Ironhide hugged him tighter. He hated seeing Ratchet sad. "You're the most unselfish mech I know, aside maybe Prime, but he's damn hard to beat. You've got a lot of love to give a sparkling, we both do." He drew Ratchet's face up to his, kissing him tenderly. "I want one too, it'd be great to have a sparkling of our own. I'm really not saying no, Ratch'. Just saying what needs to be said. If you want to try for one, I want to too." His smile turned a little more sly. "And you have to admit, you do treat some of the younger mechs around here like they're still kids sometimes."

Inwardly, Ratchet swelled with happiness, but he withheld his excitement. At least he'd gotten Ironhide to think about it, even if the time of them trying for one was still ...some time away. "You'd make an excellent sire, you know. I'd...want to be the one carrying," he said, nodding his helm into Ironhide's neck. "A little one would be safest with me...And I do have the best position in the army to bear a sparkling--" Ratchet cut himself off before he went on a rant. He'd been thinking about it for a long time now. "Of course I treat the younger mechs like younglings...that's what they are...compared to us anyways."

"They really are, aren't they?" Ironhide said, chuckling. "Primus, I feel old. Hope I can keep up with a sparkling's energy. Especially if they happen to get your energy drive."

Ratchet snorted into Ironhide's neck and nipped at one of his neck wires. "You'll be able to keep up just fine. You're not that old," Ratchet murmured, sliding his glossa along the tubing. "A sparkling..." he repeated. "It'll be a big one. Nice and broad, strong, smart. We'll be able to raise it right..." he said.

Ironhide nodded. "It'll get the best parts of both of us, and then some."


	11. Sweet Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mirage is shaken up after a training session with Jazz. Prowl is there to comfort him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Sweet lovers  
> Authors: tsarist_secret (aka vectorsigma3441 ) as Prowl, diamondunicorn as Mirage  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Chapter: 11; PREVIOUS CHAPTERS HERE  
> Characters/Pairings: Prowl/Mirage  
> Summary: Mirage is shaken up after a training session with Jazz. Prowl is there to comfort him.  
> Series: G1, AU (but mostly AU)  
> Warnings: Slash, explicit sex

Mirage inspected his rifle, rubbing off a smudge on the barrel. His lips quirked in satisfaction at the pristine condition of his weapon, one of the few possessions saved from his fallen home. It was special to him and with a few upgrades it had been made suitable for battle. It had proven its worth before, and he hoped it would continue to long into the future.

He leveled the rifle and took aim across the field. There was a nervous churning in his fuel tanks as he trained his sight on the target. The distance wasn't daunting in the least, this was an easy shot despite how far his target was. He just wasn't used to shooting something that had a build like his. He pulled the trigger, watching as the laser blast burned a clean hole in the middle of the motionless mech-shaped drone's chest, right where the spark would be if it had one.

Jazz was laying on a bench nearby, his entire body on it as he dozed. Whenever Mirage shot he'd wake up a little to check the mech's accuracy, then fall right back asleep. Mirage was getting better at least. This time Jazz jerked awake more fully, and his arm moved from where it was shielding his optics from the Cybertronian sun. It was an open range course, mostly, and there were plenty of real scenario set ups in the large place. Scrap piles were everywhere for hiding and cover, realistic buildings, and more to help a soldier train to be ready for war.

Shaking himself awake, Jazz stood up and yawned widely, then dipped to the side to reach for his own rifle. "Alright, now I'm going to show ya how to properly infiltrate a building," Jazz said, motioning with his hands as he turned to the side. He didn't wait for Mirage; the mech could catch up well enough. The saboteur approached the fake setup building and stopped a good deal away from the doors. It looked just like any other regular building.

Mirage stopped short behind Jazz, his rifle held at his side with the barrel pointing at the ground. He looked over the building Jazz had led him to and waited patiently for instructions.

"What do ya notice about this building?" Jazz said, motioning toward it with his hand as he hiked his gun up farther in his arms. He held his a bit differently than most - his wrist under the indentation before the butt, and letting the stock rest up against his under arm.

Mirage was silent for several minutes as he studied the building. Jazz would likely want him to observe the ways to enter it. "It's two stories, the windows are single panel, and the front doors are pretty wide, I think I could probably walk through them while invisible if someone uses them." He looked hesitantly to Jazz, uncertain he'd answered well.

Jazz nodded. "Yes, yes, that much is obvious. Who do ya figure would live here? Ya can't just look at th' building, ya have ta see in th' buildin' too. Ya get what I'm saying? What class of family would live here, what are th' possible range of skills for those potentially inside? Is it a high rise with senators and nobles, or is it a small buildin' in the slums? Gotta figure out what to expect before you go in." Jazz rubbed at his shoulder. He stepped closer, off to the side of the door, crouched low to the ground. "Always enter like this, never straight on, or you'll be dead, whether you can be invisible or not."

Mirage followed Jazz's example, crouching down beside him. "Honestly, it's a rather nondescript place, looks middle class and like anyone could live here." Mirage paused for a moment. "Actually, it kind of reminds me of this cult home I saw in the news once."

Jazz chuckled. He reached his gun out and knocked at the door with the stock. "Different cases apply for this move," he said. "If you're infiltrating in enemy territory, it might not be so advantageous. But if you're checking a single room within a building, it has more uses. And if you're with a company, it's recommended. Now, you're going to pick the lock." The saboteur stood up and darted across the doorway. "Always keep in mind where the windows are. Someone could be looking right out at you."

A panel on Jazz's wrist opened, and a small cord fell out. Mirage had recently had a unit installed like this too. "Take a slim knife and pry the panel off." Jazz did so, and he cut at the wiring underneath that appeared, locking in with his own wire to unlock the door. "Once you're done with this task, you're going to take this knife and cut the wire as cleanly as you can. There's no time for you to untangle it." Once that was done, the door hissed open. Then he jumped up into the middle of the doorway, he gun at the ready with his finger on the trigger. "Now's the time to be as quiet as you can," he murmured, and stepped inside. He motioned for Mirage. "Now, get me safely to the top floor. I know you know what to do. You've had simulations before. The objective is a hostage, and she's at the top," he said.

Mirage stepped in front of Jazz, scanning their surroundings and taking the lead as he cautiously started walking through the room. There was a gentle swish as a figure popped up in his peripheral vision. He whirled around, firing at the sheet of metal painted and shaped to have the front view of a Decepticon. A second figure popped up, but Mirage held his fire as he trained his rifle on it, quickly spotting the red Autobot emblem on the pop-up mech's chest. He hadn't been warned his first run through with pop-up opponents but had learned quickly after that how to differentiate an enemy from an ally.

He continued on, with Jazz, going from the entrance down the hall, taking out two more pop-up mechs and reaching the stairs. He led the way, testing the steps and avoiding glue traps on several of the steps. Although Jazz likely already knew about the glue traps, Mirage still warned him, as he'd been trained. They reached the top floor, Mirage switching on his electro-disruptor as he peaked around the corner.

There were four doors on the second floor on either side of the staircase. He looked up and down the walls for anything that could trigger an alarm or a trap.

"Make sure ya look with your infrared too," Jazz murmured. "Ya have specialized optics, use them all th' time when you're in battle. All mechs have heat sources, however faint at times." Jazz sidled up to Mirage, curving his form into the mech's back and aft. He breathed lightly in Mirage's audio as he glanced around the corner too. His idle hand rested on the mech's invisible spoiler, though he could see him just fine with his visor on.

"Most inside doors are motion activated, so you'll have th' benefit of the doubt if anyone is coming through or not. And...listen," he murmured quietly. Faintly, there came a soft noise of someone in distress. It seemed like the voice was that of a femme's. "Should ya go to th' noise? When th' mechs here most likely know you've been sneaking around? Always come to a smart conclusion. The enemy's goal is to kill ya. And with special ops, lure ya in. They want ya for information. They'd love to torture ya for it... Now proceed."

Mirage shivered, taking a deep intake as he stepped away from Jazz. "I'll go ahead, you should wait here," Mirage said. He switched on his infrared, stepping over and ducking under a couple of hidden sensors. He stopped at the two doors from the side he'd taken, crouching low. He deactivated his elctro-disruptor, then waved a hand in front of the two door's sensors, quickly reactivating it. The doors slid open as he went invisible and Mirage took out the inactive drones in both. He let out a quiet, tired sigh when he didn't see a femme pretending to be a hostage in either.

Jazz watched, a smile on his face. Mirage was doing well. And while he had some active duty time, he didn't have nearly enough to cut it as an ops mech. He was getting good though, smart. Soon Jazz would start taking him out on real missions, train him in like a proper apprentice. "One attribute of being an ops mech is having all attributes. Th' ability ta recharge in a hole in th' ground with bullets wizzing over your head, hand ta hand combat, speed, agility, negotiation skills and th' like," he said over the comm unit. "Only two rooms left, find our hostage. Take out th' enemy. This isn't a mission ta capture."

Mirage crept over to the other two doors, using the same trick as before. The doors opened, he shot the two drones in the first room and turned on the other. On a berth sat Moonracer, optics brightening with interest as the door opened.

Mirage aimed for the drone sitting by Moonracer, propped as the hostage taker. Then it's head turned, optics lit with power. Mirage froze, unable to pull the trigger at seeing his target move. The drone may not have looked like a normal mech or femme, but it looked alive. His targets didn't move like this, didn't have the active optics of something alive.

The drone, running only on some behavior programing, grabbed it's target's wrist, pulling at her. Moonracer's indignant yelp was enough to snap Mirage out of his frozen state and he shot at the drone as well, the lifeless shell's optics going off as it was hit.

Jazz appeared behind Mirage, his rifle lowered and at ease. What Mirage was shooting wasn't enough to hurt Moonracer incase he'd accidentally hit her, but it would leave a nice sting, and if possible, some melted wiring. "Good job," he said, smacking Mirage on the shoulder. "Everything takes practice, and risk assessment," he said, walking over towards Moonracer. The femme chuckled when Jazz took her up in his arms, cradling her. "Now to provide proper extraction," he teased, and she giggled again as they kissed. After a moment Jazz broke off, looking up. "You're to return to base and clean up. Review the info I sent you this morning. Meet me in the armory tomorrow at the regular time."

Mirage deactivated his cloak, nodding. "Alright." He idly wondered if the pair were going to get up to something before deciding it wasn't any of his concern. "I'll see you both later, then." He left, grip tight on his rifle to keep his hands from shaking as he walked off, avoiding the traps around the room. He didn't want Jazz noticing just how shook up he was.

Most of the tension from before had eased with the shower and reviewing the data files Jazz had sent. At least the sick feeling in his fuel tanks had eased. Mirage was heading towards the commissary when he passed Prowl's door. His spark pulsed a little harder at the thought of visiting his lover, so he changed plans and entered Prowl's office to see if he was free for a visitor. "Prowl?"

Prowl glanced over, his finger jabbing Smokescreen's chassis as they both stopped in the middle of a heated argument. Prowl's face was in a fierce scowl, and so was his brother's. Smokescreen backed away and brushed past Mirage in the doorway, leaving Prowl behind without a word. The tactician rubbed at his face, his optics intense. "Hello Mirage," Prowl said tiredly, nodding at his lover. "It's good to see you." The black and white mech leaned back against his desk, resting his aft upon it.

Mirage smiled tilting his head in greeting. "It's good to see you too. I was hoping you wouldn't mind my company." His optics flicked back to the door. "If you're not really feeling... hospitable, though, I can come back later."

"Ah, no it's fine. Just got into a bit of an argument with my brother. But that happens all the time," Prowl said kindly, cocking his head to the side as he gazed at Mirage. Prowl stood up, walking slowly over toward the other mech. Once he was close, he guided Mirage further in the room and wrapped him into a hug, the door shutting behind him. The SIC kissed the top of Mirage's helm. "It's good to see you. How was your training?"

"It went well. I completed my objective without error and Jazz said I did a good job." Mirage wound his arms around Prowl's back, right under his doorwings. He nuzzled against Prowl's cheek, taking a deep intake. "I was surprised when one of the drones moved. I'd thought they would all be deactivated... It's easier shooting something that doesn't move."

"It's easier shooting something you know isn't alive," Prowl replied gently, one arm wrapped around Mirage's neck, the other around his back. The weather was bitterly cold outside, and he could still feel a bit of cold emanating from Mirage's plating, despite the hot shower that he must've just taken. "We can go in the back to my berthroom. I'll get you some hot energon for you to warm up on," the tactician offered, his thumb rubbing across Mirage's cheek.

Mirage leaned into the touch, silently thankful for Prowl's understanding. He knew he'd have to eventually kill Decepticons, and he knew he could do it if needed. It was transitioning from just knowing, to actually doing it that was difficult to handle. "Energon sounds good," he said.

Prowl smiled and rubbed his hand against Mirage's shoulder. "Alright, follow me."

The tactician went to his desk and locked up everything except a few datapads which he carried with him, then he shut his office lights off for the night and headed towards the back where his room was. He unlocked that door and guided Mirage inside, then shut it securely behind him. Never hurt to be too careful. "You can go on my berth, or a chair, or wherever you'd like," he said, smiling once before he went off into the corner to the energon dispenser. He pressed a button for it to heat up, and waited until the tell-tale rattle let him know it was working. He grabbed two mugs, one for himself and one for Mirage. "You know," he said, "I'm going to be deployed to the front soon. Not sure if uh you knew that," Prowl finished absently.

Mirage took a seat on the foot of Prowl's berth, frowning in concern. "No, I didn't. How long will you be gone?" He picked nervously at the blanket draped over the berth.

"I couldn't say," Prowl replied. "One, because it's classified, and two, because I really have no idea." He pressed a button on the dispenser and poured themselves a hot mug of energon. He turned and moved over to Mirage, handing him his cup. Prowl still had his datapads in hand, but he moved up on the berth with his lover too, up towards the headboard so he could sit up and read. "My best estimate is a few months," he finally confided, pulling the blankets up. His doorwings were flared out, pressed comfortably into the metallo-mesh pillows behind him as he gazed at a datapad. "But ah, I'll have leave in that time."

Mirage scooted up beside Prowl and drank some of his energon, enjoying the warm liquid running down his throat. "I'll be hoping for your safe return." He leaned into Prowl's side, seeking the reassuring, confident presence of the tactician. "And I'll miss you. I like being with you and I enjoy the time we spend together."

A small smile developed on Prowl's face as Mirage snuggled into him. He set his datapads on a stand near his berth and sipped at his energon, gazing down at Mirage. A pang of guilt flooded through him, but he fought it down. "Me too...me too..." he said softly, reaching his fingers in to rest against Mirage's neck. He played with the tubing, rubbing and kneading at it. It'd been many years now that he'd been a soldier, and before that, he'd been an enforcer. "But..." he said gently, "there are others here who can cuddle with you too..." he teased. "Ratchet's almost always here...and Bluestreak sometimes has trouble sleeping...he likes it when someone stays with him..."

Mirage smiled, curling up a little closer and taking another drink from his cube. "Something we seem to have in common. It's always easier sleeping next to someone who you care about. I'm lucky I found friends who are happy to let me sleep with them." He paused, realizing the double meaning of what he just said. He giggled a little, face flushing in embarrassment. "I did not mean that as it sounds."

Prowl nearly choked on his energon, and it took him a few seconds to calm down his intake. He set his glass to the side on the nightstand. "Just can't get enough spike, can you Mirage?" the tactician replied a bit stoically, but a smile on his face soon enveloped. Prowl turned to the side and shifted his hips, straddling Mirage's waist. "What am I going to have to do to keep you mine for a while?" he chuckled, reaching his hands down to smooth them over Mirage's chassis, kneading at him. "You want me to blow you, lick you, give it to you like the spike loving slut you are?" he teased, his face just inches away from Mirage's.

Mirage smiled, setting aside his half-finished drink as well. He kissed Prowl, then moved down to his throat, nuzzling it. "Mm, I do love that spike of yours; having its weight settled on my glossa or feeling it inside me, teasing my internal sensors. You're good at making me forget everything aside you." His fingers teased along the base of Prowl's doorwings.

Prowl chirred low in his vocalizer. His fingers dawdled over Mirage's chassis as he squirmed his hips from side to side, putting on a little show for his lover. "I'll have to take you down to one of the bars in the metro. They have great dancers there," he said as he bent low, his lips trailing lightly across Mirage's abdomen. Smiling, he leaned down and singularly placed a kiss right on the middle of Mirage's panel.

Mirage moaned, shifting under Prowl's attentions. His panel clicked open for his lover and he reached out, petting the flared doorwings. "Do you like that? Having a show put on for you?" Mirage asked, an idea forming in his processor. He didn't know anything about the more exotic and sensual forms of dance, but he wasn't afraid to learn if it might please Prowl.

"Mm of course darling," Prowl murmured, pinpricks of pleasure spiraling down his backstrut from Mirage's touch. "I may be a soldier now, but I was once a mech of...some class," he chuckled. Prowl wasn't sure if erotic dancing and lap dances necessarily constituted that a mech had class. Most likely not. Perhaps just an appetite. Bluestreak sure knew how to do both of those. The thought made Prowl shudder. The tactician angled himself, sliding down so he was resting completely on his front. He wrapped his arms around Mirage's legs to carelessly spread them, then started licking the outside rim of Mirage's valve, stimulating the external cluster nodes with his glossa.

Mirage's intakes picked up, thighs tensing at the feel of the smooth glossa on his valve. He stroked harder on Prowl's doorwings, licking his lip as he offlined his optics. "Mm, oh Prowl. Your glossa feels so good," Mirage murmured, fingers lightly scratching over the inside of the doorwings and down to tease the wires and cables helping anchor them to Prow's back.

Prowl drew his face away. "Yes...you love having your valve licked out don't you?" he husked, then drew his face back down and thrust his glossa inside Mirage's valve, bobbing his head with the effort. The lubricant was sweet in his mouth as he worked, and the tactician felt his own spike stir. With a soft sigh, he leaned up, reaching for Mirage's chin. His panel open and his spike extended. "You want it... you've got to work for it," he said, smirking. He knew that Mirage prefered this type of play. "Suck my spike." Prowl simply kneeled on the berth, his backstrut ramrod straight while his legs were slightly spread.

Mirage whimpered and his hips squirmed at the loss of Prowl's glossa. Regardless, he moved down until his face was level with Prowl's hips. He licked up the presented spike, using a hand to grasp the base as licked around the head like it were a piece of hard candy. His glossa teased on the slit, then moved down the underside as his hand slowly stroked over the base.

The tactician gasped, one hand on the top of Mirage's helm while the mech pleasured him. That lovely, lovely mouth. Prowl swallowed the lump in his throat. "Suck the head, only the very tip," he whispered, moving his hips a little bit just to make it more difficult for Mirage. He loved watching the mech work for it. It made him wet. "Facial for you tonight, don't you think?" Prowl murmured, pulling at Mirage's bottom lip while he gazed down at the mech.

Mirage looked up, optics coy as he sucked hard on the head of Prowl's spike. His glossa swirled over it and he gave a soft hum of agreement as the corners of his lips quirked up. He kept his hand on the base of the spike, lightly sliding over it. The grip also served as a way of preventing the spike from dislodging or going too far into his mouth.

"Mm... your face covered in my cum is always a nice sight," Prowl said, his frame giving a shiver. He reached into his subspace and grabbed a long, thin vibrator. It was simple chrome metal, and Prowl turned it on for a second, enjoying the buzz against his fingers. He absolutely loved wireless controllers. "Okay move up for a second...I'm going to shove this in your valve...then you're going to close your panel."

Mirage let go of Prowl's spike, sliding up the berth and spreading his legs. He shivered a little, imagining the vibrator inside him and being unable to touch it, helpless to what it did in his valve.

Prowl drew his fingers down and played with Mirage's entrance, smirking at his fellow noble. "Good," he murmured, pressing a finger inside so he could rub at the wet, stretchable walls of Mirage's valve. Prowl moved his finger in until he reached his knuckle, and began petting. "I've always enjoyed watching a mech cum on my fingers..." he murmured, his warm breath washing across Mirage's face as he leaned forward to kiss the him. He played with the vibrator with other hand, turning it on low so he could rub it against the shaft of his spike. Oh it was glorious...

Mirage's fans picked up, clenching his valve at the sudden idea of having both the vibrator and Prowl inside him. What a lovely pleasure that would be. He arched up and moaned into the kiss as he thought about it. He moved a hand up, stroking over Prowl's helm, from chevron down the back.

Prowl chuckled, running his glossa over Mirage's top lip. He moved both of his lips so he could suck on Mirage's sensually while he pressed another finger inside of Mirage's valve, working him a bit harder to get him to stretch more. "You poor thing. I don't give you enough spike, do I?" he murmured, his optics flicking off as he moved the vibrator off his spike. It was too much. Shifting his fingers, he scissored the noble's valve and sunk the vibrator in Mirage's valve, remotely accessing it so that is was on low. He drew his fingers out and pressed his palm to Mirage's opening to keep it from sliding back out. "Shut your panel," he said in a husky whisper.

Mirage did so, moaning low at the feeling of the trapped vibrator inside him. He smiled, remembering how Hound once teased him that he'd be happiest if he could just walk around stuffed with a spike all day. The idea had its merits, but Mirage doubted he'd be able to concentrate on his duties while in such a state. "You know I can never get enough of you, Prowl."

A smug look of satisfaction flitted across Prowl's face for a moment before he curled his hands up and twined them over Mirage's helm. "Yes yes, I know," he said, urging Mirage back down to his neglected spike. "I take good care of you and I expect the same in return," he teased. "After all, I can use a little relief every now and then. Being the second-in-command is quite tiring."

"Mm, yes. You just don't get the appreciation you deserve, do you?" Mirage murmured, sliding slender fingers over the shaft of Prowl's spike. He licked over the head and allowed it into his mouth, sucking on it. He stroked up and down the base while he pressed a free hand to his own panel as though trying to push the vibrator nestled behind it deeper into his valve.

Prowl kept one hand on top of Mirage's helm, the other he used to support himself on the berth. His optics were off and his helm was tilted back as his blissful expression overtook his entire face. Though those nagging words were assaulting him again. Mirage had a right to know he was still sleeping with his brothers. That or... Prowl would quit, for him. "Oh...that's it..." he murmured, pushing on Mirage's helm to take him deeper. "Blow me...all the way..." he groaned.

Mirage let Prowl guide him further on the spike until his nasal ridge rested against the tactician's pelvic unit. He sucked harder, cheeks hollowing out and glossa sliding over the underside of the spike. His fingers tugged lightly at some wires on Prowl's hip.

Prowl groaned, his arm nearly slipping out from beneath him. He switched Mirage's vibrator on medium-high, and could hear it humming through the mech's panel. He knew it felt wonderful. Softly he began thrusting his hips forward, his fingers gripped tightly to Mirage's helm. Prowl didn't have much time left before he overloaded, and he could feel the pressure building behind his spike, ready to burst. "When I overload, keep my transfluid in your mouth. You're not going to swallow until you overload too," he rasped, his thighs tensing up.

Mirage whimpered, thighs starting to tremble as pleasure nodes were teased inside him. He stroked his other hand down Prowl's back in acknowledgement of the command and bobbed his head to Prowl's gentle thrusts. He tightened his throat around the spike, humming softly as he knew his lover liked.

Prowl gasped as the pleasure seemed to explode inside him, making him thrust forward quicker as he overloaded, his spike emptying in Mirage's mouth. When he did come to his senses, his optics were brilliant blue when they flashed on, and he turned the vibrator in Mirage's valve on high. "Oh Primus," he groaned, looking down at the mech on his knees. Prowl slipped his spike out of Mirage's mouth with a wet pop. "Keep it in there," he urged, pressing his hand over Mirage's mouth to make sure none leaked out, while with his other he wrapped around the noble's neck, asphyxiating him.

Mirage dug his heels into the berth, optics half shuttered and dimmed from the multitude of sensations he was experiencing. His hips twitched as the vibrator mercilessly stimulated him, making the walls tighten and throb with need. He kept his hands clenched at his sides as warnings of overheating flared through his CPU. He felt light headed, almost detached from his body as Prowl kept a firm grip on his neck, denying the circulation of precious air and energon to his CPU. He couldn't help shivering from the thrill of having so little control of the situation.

Prowl let go, but tilted Mirage's head forward so he still couldn't swallow. He could feel the noble's vents feverishly circulating air and he waited a few more seconds before he tightened his grip again. He could feel some of his transfluid escaping through Mirage's lips and he smeared it over the mech's lips and under his nasal ridge. "Come on Mirage, I know you want to cum, so do it."

Mirage moaned low in his throat, hips bucking as his valve clamped down on the vibrator. His optics flared as he overloaded with a gurgling whine around the transfluid in his mouth. Small shudders kept afflicting his frame as the high from his energy and air deprived CPU seemed to prolong the feeling of overload. He went limp under Prowl as the energy finally abated.

Prowl let go of Mirage's neck, helping him rest down gently on the berth. The tactician laid down beside him, stroking his neck, stimulating him to swallow. "There's a good mech," he cooed, chuckling as he buried his face in the back of the noble's neck. "How did that feel?"

Mirage cycled heavily, slowly relaxing under Prow's tender attentions. "Intense, I felt... helpless. But I enjoyed it very much," Mirage replied, snuggling back into Prowl.

"Of course," Prowl murmured, shutting the vibrator off in Mirage's valve. He kissed the back of Mirage's neck, fiddling with the finial arch on the mech's helm. "There's...something I've been wanting to bring up with you..." There, he'd broke the ice, now all he had to do was find the right words.

"What is it?" Mirage asked, tilting his helm better for Prowl's attentions. He laced his fingers with the older mech's, stroking his thumb over the palm.

"I... I'm not really sure how to tell you," Prowl muttered, blowing a hot breath into the cords of Mirage's neck. "Well, you know how uh... I said I have my two brothers, right?"

"Yes," Mirage said, curiosity piqued by Prowl's hesitance. Mirage had been curious for a long time if what he'd heard about Prowl and his brothers were true.

"Well... When we were growing up our creators weren't really around. As the oldest, I uh...took care of them. And we got really close, really close."

"Too close?" Mirage tried to keep his tone soft and calm, wanting to hear the truth from Prowl before he said anything of his own suspicions.

"Yeah..." Prowl murmured, shifting to sit up. He sat down on his aft, crossing his legs. He rubbed at his helm with the palm of his hand, his vents letting out a big draught of air. "I'm sexually involved. With both of them," he admitted, feeling heated embarrassment rise to the surface of his dermal metal. What a thing to admit.

"Oh... I've been wondering about your relationship with them," Mirage said. He laid his hand on Prowl's knee, rubbing it reassuringly. "I already knew about Smokescreen and Bluestreak. And I'd heard speculation that you were involved with them. Thank you for telling me, I can't imagine it was easy."

Mirage finally smiled as he looked up at Prowl. "I've had time myself to think about you three... and although I still find it unusual, I don't think badly of any of you. I care very much for you Prowl and I'm happy as long as you're happy."

One blue optic peered out from behind his hand. "Thanks," Prowl muttered, scratching at his chevron before he stood up, offering a hand to the mech still lying there. "I've still got half a mind to turn that vibrator back on," he chuckled weakly.

Mirage shivered at the thought of having the vibrator back on, cheeks warming a little as Prowl helped him up. He'd be happy for another round if Prowl wanted it. He smiled coyly up at Prowl, tilting his helm so that the side of his neck was bared. Ratchet had once told him that when he did that, it made him look like something innocent that needed to be corrupted. "Oh, you should put your full mind to turning it back on then."

Prowl smirked, but it barely touched his lips. "Is that right?" he murmured, dropping his hand back down to his side. Prowl stepped over Mirage so he was looming over him. He lowered himself back down to the berth, settling on his lover's hips. "What can I do for you, Mirage?" he murmured, his doorwings flared as he leaned forward, gazing into the other mech's optics.

Mirage lightly teased the undercarriage to Prowl's alt-mode with slender fingers. Honestly, he wasn't sure how much more he wanted to talk about Prowl's relationship with his brothers. He accepted it, but after a lifetime of being told interface between close family members was wrong, it was a subject he still didn't quite know how to handle. But he did know Prowl and his brothers were nice mechs and deserved at the very least his tolerance. "Make me feel good," Mirage could feel himself flushing at his next words. "Make me scream."

Prowl smiled, his arms sliding out so he could press his chassis against Mirage's. He kissed Mirage's lips, letting his glossa and denta linger. "No screaming tonight darling... I'll make you beg and moan for my thick spike," he whispered. Prowl tilted his lover's head back and kissed gently at the exposed tubing, parting his lips to suck on the synthetic tubing. "Passion on hot nights like these is much better than a quick and rough interface..."

Mirage smiled, arching up against Prowl at his tender kisses. "You're so good to me," Mirage murmured. He wound his arms around Prowl's back, rubbing into a shoulder joint and doorwing hinge. "You always make me feel... happy."

Prowl made a noise, his denta sliding along the tubing so he could kiss at Mirage's collar ridge. "Well…I'm glad I make you feel happy. I don't want to upset you." He drew his hand down and rubbed at the noble's abdomen, his fingers circling Mirage's closed panel. "Open up," Prowl murmured, "so I can fuck you." The air around both of their bodies was hot, and the tactician imagined that his entire room smelt strongly of copulation. "Then after I'll stuff energon truffles in your mouth until you can't eat any more…" he purred. But first he had to remove the dormant vibrator from Mirage's hot clenching valve.

Mirage whimpered as an image assailed his thoughts; Prowl doing just as he promised, pinning Mirage on his back while he kept his legs wrapped tight around the tactician's waist and Prowl pressing two truffle bearing fingers into his mouth and ordering Mirage to suck on them. He slid his panel open, eager to make the vision a reality. The air became heavier with the smell of fresh lubricant and Mirage could feel some of it trickling out of his valve.

Prowl touched the protective outer folds of Mirage's valve, his fingers hot and sticky with lubricant. The tactician grinned once and sat up, his half erect spike slowly extending all the way out of its housing. He bent down and pressed his lips to the wet entrance, sliding his glossa around the end of the vibrator. Using two fingers he pulled the vibrator out agonizingly slow, curling his lips around one side to suck the lubricant off. Once it was fully out he carelessly tossed it to the side. The tactician kissed and licked the wet hole, but did not penetrate his lover. "Mm. You're such a good slut," he said, quickly sliding two fingers up inside Mirage's valve. He curled his servos inside of the tight valve, stretching the walls, and moved his fingers down until the tight lip had to stretch far to let his digits out.

Mirage flinched and let out a sharp hiss as Prowl's fingers popped out, but made no protest. The empty, raw feeling made him rumble and his valve clench on nothing in want of something filling it. "I have an excellent instructor. After all, I don't think he'd want a bad one." He spread his legs, silently inviting Prowl as he showed off smooth white thighs stained with fluids.

"From what I've heard, you've had quite a few good instructors you slut," Prowl said, but his tone was light and teasing. He didn't care who Mirage laid with. If Prowl did care, he would've been a hypocrite, being involved with both of his brothers as he was. Sliding up the expanse of Mirage's middle, he pressed his lips to his lover's, one hand supporting himself while the other held his spike to help line himself up with Mirage's valve. With a savage thrust forward, Prowl speared the tight hole, their hips clanking together. "But I love innocent little sluts," Prowl whispered, his hot breath fanning out. "I love fucking them."

Mirage arched and cried out at the near violent penetration. His hands shot up around Prowl's upper arms as though to push him away, but instead he held on tight as his valve flexed around the spike invading it. He moaned as his valve burned with a pleasure edging on pain and his helm rolled back to bear his neck. He looked the definition of debauched; a pretty young noble covered in fluids silently enjoying the roughness of words and actions from his lover. It would be hard to fathom he'd been untouched before the night he'd joined the Autobots only a short time ago.

Prowl thrust again, creating a steady and smooth rhythm. He allowed the tip of his spike to almost leave the hot wet valve and as the main ridge on the head caught the lip of Mirage's valve, he thrust back upward, creating a fulfilling pace that would stimulate every node cluster within the noble's valve. "Mirage," he moaned, the wet squelch of the noble's valve filling up his sensors and sending thrills up his backstruts. "You're so beautiful."

Mirage nodded, making a soft, breathy sound of approval as he writhed under Prowl. His hips rose to meet Prowl's, deepening the thrusts. "-could do this all night, all the time, forever," Mirage said, only vaguely thinking about what he was babbling. He didn't even think about the meaning behind his words.

Prowl rumbled in agreement, jerking his hips up harshly. "Most could. If I could fuck all day I would too," he breathed, kissing Mirage on the mouth, shoving his glossa forcefully in. He lapped the inside of Mirage's denta, tasting the transfluid nanites that still remained. Pleasure tingled through his body and Prowl started to quicken his thrusts, breathing quickly as his blue optics seemed to cloud over as he focused on the sensation.

Mirage felt the familiar heat spreading his insides and curled up against Prowl. His glossa ventured to tease Prowl's, tracing lips and denta. One leg rose and wrapped around Prowl's waist riding out the thrusts and allowing Prowl even deeper inside him. He whined into Prowl's mouth as the tip of his spike rubbed against one of the further inlaid internal nodes that Mirage drew closer and closer to overload. He shuddered as his valve tightened around Prowl's spike and heat and pleasure uncoiled from his systems in a CPU stalling overload.

A soft gasp left Prowl's lips as Mirage's valve tightened around his spike, clenching so snug that he could barely manage to thrust up once more before he fell into his own spark racing overload, spilling hot transfluid deep up inside Mirage's valve. He panted as the pleasure died down and receded into an amazing afterglow. With his doorwings painfully fanned out, Prowl grunted and collapsed onto Mirage, ready to enter recharge, but still kept his spike inside the noble's valve. "Mm thank you. That was an amazing overload."

Mirage squrimed until he was comfortable, legs spread to accomodate Prowl. He kissed the side of his lover's jaw and wrapped his arms around the other noble in a lax embrace as his engine purred pleasantly. "It was my pleasure."


End file.
